the quacking fiber addict

Meaning, I spent most of the day unpacking boxes and stealing snatches of time to sew or knit. I was completely exhausted and brain-dead by the time I fell into bed (around 2am). But, most of the family's books are unpacked. I say most, because all of them won't fit on the shelves we have here. I live with a mob of bibliophiles. Oy.

I was, as you all correctly guessed, more than a little depressed this morning and afternoon. The JW's arrival:


Helped alleviate that. In fact, I let myself spin for an hour - no unpacking, cleaning or sewing (which is why Mum's robes are still unfinished). I felt much better, most of the tension had eased out of me and I was almost at peace with the world in general, and the Peace Corps in particular.

After an hour I had half a bobbin of lace-weight yarn:


Spun of the lovely ultra-fine wool mix I got from a local breeder. Nice. Soft and sqooshy. And it wants to be spun laceweight - my kind of wool.

After that, I made myself get up, clean the kitchen and iron the fabric for the HP sleeves and lining. Now I just have to actually use the fabric. It's laying on the floor, spread out, and I have completely forgotten how I was going to attach the lining. I had an idea that made sense at the time... but no longer.

At 4:30 I jumped on a bus to go downtown early - to hit Josephine's for bias tape (for the robes, a ha, I am not a complete deadbeat), and then Knit/ Purl for tonight's Sip'n'Knit. I managed, within an hour to spill my flute of champagne on their carpet. Brava to me. They took it in stride and told me how often they spilled their coffee, tea, liquor on the floor - but I still felt like an idiot.

Opus convinced me to leave for a bit and get chocolate. Which is how I ended up eating chocolate cake and pie for dinner and reserving two copies of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows at Powell's. She really is a terrible influence on me. In the best way, of course.

We never made it back, bad us, cuz we kept getting distracted. I'll explain next week. But, right now, those robes need to be lined. All while the wicked JW sits there, whispering to me...

Oy gavault.

Labels: travelling sock(s)