I apologize for the lateness of this post. As my regular readers know, I usually post in the wee hours of the morning - pre-5:00 a.m. Here it is, 9:15 a.m., and I've just finished taking pictures. What happened?
The inevitable. I slept most of the night in the Monster.
I didn't mean to. I was working on my socks when it started happening. I slept through two cups of coffee (poured and waiting for me to drink, not already consumed). I slept through a documentary on obesity (I find that stuff really interesting). I slept through everything. I finally woke up long enough for Hubster to say, "Would you like a cup of coffee before I go to bed?" This was at 6:30 a.m. Then I dozed some more. Egads. You think I finally got more than an hour's worth of sleep? Personally, I think my body finally just broke down.
Whatever. Now I have all day to tackle this:
I know that you've seen pictures of the stash (which is included in these pictures - or at least a small part of it), and I apologize for the blurriness of one of the photos, but there's no room to move around in there. I was looking for something earlier last night and couldn't find it, so I had to face up to reality. After I pay a visit to my LYS (I need another size of needles - can you believe it?), then I get to roll up the proverbial shirt sleeves and charge in. There are at least six Hefty trash bags full of garbage to be thrown away. I used to take my Yarn Fairy deliveries into that room, sit in the rocker, and just fling the empty boxes wherever they happened to land. No more. There IS no more landing room. Argh. I hate doing this kind of shit. Hubster told me he'll help, and that will be interesting. For as you probably know, Hubster and I cannot do home improvement projects of any kind together. I think I'll bag up the trash first, then let him in there to help me unpack. I have to be careful, though. He can't see to what proportions the stash has grown. In fact, I have to stop at OSH and get yet another container.
Speaking of stash, I was very good at the Loopy Ewe's last Sneak-Up. Here's what I scored:
Starting from the upper left and swooping down around the front of Gabby to the right:
Spritely Goods - Peppercorn Blend
Spritely Goods - Marble
Spritely Goods - Patina
The Knittery - Orchid
The Knittery - Orange Blossom
I also got my Booty Club skein, but I won't show that in case someone who reads this hasn't received theirs yet.
I know that what I got from the Sneak-Up is paltry compared to what I usually get, but remember that I'm trying to be a good girl. I fear, however, that next week's Sneak is going to do me in, if the names of the dyers floating around are indeed going to make an appearance.
The only interesting thing that happened yesterday is that I decided to go water my flowers and plants out front. Let it never be said that I'm a bashful broad. In fact, when we lived in Sacramento on that lovely acre (sigh), I bought Hubster a John Deere tractor/mower. I rode it down the street (well, we lived in a cul-de-sac) in my fuzzy slippers, jammies, and robe. He even has a movie of it. I also swim stark naked in the backyard. In Sacramento, our back fence consisted of stone pillars with an open iron fence strung between them. On the other side of the fence was a horse path, biking path, and foot path. Our pool was angled in the far back corner of the yard. So I'd sit in my floatie with a smoke in one hand, a drink in the other, and bronze my body to mahogany glory. No bikini lines for me (like I could fit the moving boulders into a bikini; I'd also never find the bottom once I sat down and my ass sucked it up). Anyway, I just didn't care who came behind our house, and after a while, people, horses, and all other living creatures stopped coming by.
I digress. So I went outside in my jammies (the ones with the panda bears dancing all over them - flannel bottoms and a matching top with pandas embroidered on the front... how sickly cute is that?) and my big, floppy, sheepskin slippers. I marched over to the hose, turned on the water, and proceeded to water the flowers I'd planted around the base of the 75 year-old sycamore tree (there's a brick planter that goes all the way around it). Then I moved to the front of the house and began watering the plants there. I was merrily washing down the side of the house (it's got that siding shit and was full of webs) when I noticed it. Actually, them. Swarming around my legs. Yellow jackets.
So my neighbors were treated to the sight of the crazy lady in the panda jammies yelling, jumping up and down, spraying water in a seemingly random pattern in the air, and beating the shit out of the yellow jackets I took down with the water. I'm deathly allergic to anything that stings (bees, yellow jackets, hornets, etc.), and I don't have an epi kit (stupid me - I need to get one), so I felt the need to soak and destroy. I hastily watered the rest of the plants, filled the little solar fountain I have sitting next to the mailbox stake, ran back to the tap, turned it off, and went flying into the house, whereupon I collapsed in the Monster and stared at my soaking wet slippers. Oh well. I did my gardening deed for the day.
Well, dear readers, I'm off to work on my socks until I have to wake up Hubster and take off for the yarn shop. It looks like it's going to be a loooong day.
I'm still considering that drinking thing, especially since I found a bottle of gin in the freezer...