Y-a-w-w-n

My dear readers will doubtless remember how many mornings they had to get their own breakfasts because their pitiful excuse for a mother is So Not A Morning Person. A post coming at 7 a.m. may surprise them; but not nearly as much as the fact that their mother woke up at 5.30 and couldn’t get back to sleep. I hate this. I hope we pass this stage of the Brain-pill Conversion (Supreme Irritability with a Glittering of Sleeplessness) soon. Last week was just Supreme Irritability. As I told Northwood, the sound of the dog licking the floor was enough to make me want to throw her through a window.

I am now the owner of a new, yet-uninstalled over-the-stove (over-the-range? One of those) microwave oven! Nothing fancy; just yer basic nuker. A 1.6 cu. ft. one was the smallest I could get. The guy who’ll install it probably won’t be able to get out here for another week, so here’s hoping I can tolerate one more week sans nuker. He’ll have to cut up the central cabinet, put in a new floor for it, and cut down the doors. I’ll lose a fair amount of space up there, but I’ll get about three square feet more counter space, which will provide that much more horizontal surface to cover up with Stuff! It’s well worth it! This whole heat-things-onna-stove thing is so 20th century.

Last week I found an old pair of glasses at Grandma’s (along with the Possibly Former Food Product) so I took them in to have her current prescription put in. She’s mangled up the pair she now wears so badly that they appear to be continuously poised to leap off her nose. Sideways. ‘Course, then it snowed all week and, with a 12″ car clearance vs. 16″ of snow in the never-plowed street, I was stuck here. Finally picked them up yesterday and they fit much, much better than the poor beat-up ones.

She’s now decided that her eye hurts because of astigmatism (which has nothing whatsoever to do with eye pain; her eye hurts because she banged it against something and it’s swollen and bruised) and she’s going to drive everybody nuts about getting a new scrip. The scrip she now has already corrects for that, but you can’t use logic (or even science) with her any longer. She knows what she knows, dammit, and nobody’s gonna convince her of anything “true” that contradicts that.

I’m about 4″ into the red sweater KrisDi commissioned for Chilkat. This yarn isn’t quite as bright as we wanted, but the smaller yarn size is going to make a much nicer fabric with a texture better proportioned for tiny people. After spending two or three weeks making stitch markers,

moremarkers2.jpg

it’s nice to have my Knitting Mojo back.

Now, if someone could just tell me where I can buy a package of Sleeping Mojo?

Posted by wordsmith

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Feckin’!

Sleeping Mojo, now available in liquid form at your local liquor store.

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