I’ve been sitting at my computer most of the day doing one thing and another — almost finishing a hat (thought I could get both a cowl and a hat out of one skein. Couldn’t.*). Thinking about a cowl with twisted cables, which will, of course, need a hat to match. I was working on the hat and came to a place where I needed to do a cable cross and couldn’t find my little wooden cable needle that I love. Panic. Dumped the fat(cat)boy onto the floor (he’d been sleeping between my knees), shook out my lap robe, felt around the edges of the chair cushion, moved the chair and looked on the floor. Tore the world up looking for it. Knew it had to be somewhere around my computer desk. Then realized I’d stuck it over my ear like a pencil. Sigh.
Then I had to rip out about five rows from the owl hat I should have finished weeks ago because the pattern says you’re supposed to repeat the same line of the pattern for “Rows 16-22” and I subtracted 16 from 22 and got 4 instead of 6. (If God wanted me to do math in my head, She wouldn’t have given us calculators.) (Which is even more embarrassing since I’m the one who wrote the durn pattern in the first place!) That short little brown stick looking thing on the hat in the picture to the right is the cable needle in question.
In the picture above, you’ll notice that on the left-hand computer monitor is a long thin blue rectangle with a white border around it — that’s Winamp, which I’m using to listen to the Drone Zone channel on Soma FM. Snuggly warm with a snuggly warm kitty between my knees, listening to music and knitting at the computer. Pretty much covers all the bases.
Week before last, I got a jury summons. Now they’ve got it set up so you can report in and fill out the little form on line, which I did, which means I don’t have to get up at ye gods! o’clock tomorrow morning, schlep all the way across town to give them my form and sit there half the day in the central jury pool — where they won’t let you knit** — with about a hundred other people who don’t want to be there either, hoping I don’t make the first cut. They’re supposed to let me know by phone on 1 December if I’ve been selected as a potential juror for a particular trial. If I have, then I have to get up at ridiculous o’clock and schlep all the way even farther across town to the court house so the lawyers can decide whether they want me on their jury or not.
**No weapons or anything that could conceivably be used as a weapon is allowed in the court.