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giphyI think I could really get into Thor’s day if Chris Hemsworth was included in the deal . . .  As far as I’m concerned, just his eye candy quotient alone is practically off the chart.

Well, the garage door guy was out bright and early yesterday.  The  good news is that both remotes work.  The actual garage door opener unit, on the other hand, is losing it’s little circuit boarded mind. It’s getting the signal from the remote but is becoming less and less able to figure out what to do with it.  Per my land lady, I called today to see about getting it replaced.  The business we are dealing with has a well-deserved reputation for good service, so I was not surprised that it will be about 10 days before they can fit me into the schedule to replace the unit, so I will just have to deal with it until they can get out to do the deed.  The wall switch is connected directly to the motor and still works reliably, so I can still work the door from that.  Also, if the unit fails completely, there is a pull cord which (if I can reach it!) will disengage the drive on the garage door opener so that the door can be opened and closed manually.  It’s just going to be a pain in the kazoo having to deal with it until the unit can be replaced.  So, there’s that.

h699e4a59I did not have that discussion yesterday with my reader table about maintaining the proper height.  Although I have the glass, I have not put it up to cover the fireplace yet.  All I did yesterday was finish knitting one thing, start knitting another thing, and write another knitting pattern.  It is for a buttoned cowl for my landlady, and I’m liking the way it’s turning out. I’m halfway through knitting it up, and it’s turning out nicely.  My desktop came today, and is leaning up against the couch in the front room still in the box.  I’m sitting at the computer knitting (again) (still) and frankly, the only thing I feel truly motivated to do is crawl back into bed and go back to sleep. I hope I’m not coming down with something.

I still have the Hat From The Blue Lagoon to finish, but it’s not quite as pressing as the buttoned cowl I will finish this afternoon, and the hat and man cowl I still have to do, which have to be finished before Sunday. All that takes precedence over the desk and the fireplace glass.  Fixing the desk is going to be a complex operation — I have to empty off my current desk, which entails dismantling my computer equipment, before I can flip it over and remove the legs, which will then be affixed to the new desktop.  Thankfully, the half sheet of 3/4-inch plywood I have on the floor under my desk (wheels are hard to roll on carpet) will be wide enough to accommodate the wider desk.  In order to do the fireplace, I’ve got to move furniture out of the way so I can lift the fireplace screen down to put the glass up.  And to do the reader’s stand, I’ve got to unplug it and move it over to where I have the clear floor space to deal with it.  Right now, it looks like all that stuff is shifting to next week.

Right now, I’m going to go nuke me a frozen entre that calls itself “Fiesta Chicken” — which does not have any Devil’s Tongue Habañero infused olive oil in it.  Probably just as swell. That stuff would probably melt my crowns.

Oh, and the fudge. My sister-in-law teaches violin at Texas State University three days a week, and commutes between here and San Marcos.  When she’s here, she helps my bro run his busy string instrument repair shop (which shops are few and far between out here in the flatlands.  The next closest ones are in Austin, Tx, and Albuquerque, NM).  Because they both play viola as well as violin, they are much in demand, and are always doing one kind of musical gig or another — string quartets, string ensembles, orchestras, etc.  As a consequence, they tend to hit the holiday season at a dead run.  In addition to her many other talents, my sister-in-law makes excellent fudge candy and somehow always manages to find time to make a big batch for the holidays.  They were on their way to rehearsals at “St. Chris” when they stopped by to drop off my cut.  Since my mom was at choir practice, they gave me her cut, too, making me the designated fudge courier this year.