Socks hate me.
We're in the final days of University Countdown 2005, or as I like to call it: Gee, I've Got A Lot of Crap 2005. I have been carting boxes and boxes of crap out of my room, and it doesn't look remotely depleted. You only notice it on the bookshelves, which are now only half-full as opposed to over-flowing. Everything else was stored in cabinets and boxes, under the bed and in the closet. Which says something, I think. No matter how messy it was, it could always have been SO MUCH WORSE. I just have to finish packing a few little odds and ends, and we're all set. I'm not sure whether there will actually be room enough for me in the car though, and fear that my family will have to hang off the sides of the car, much like those buses and trains in India, as we drive down the 401.
I've also put some Christmas music on my computer, since I'm not bringing any CDs with me, and around November 1st it's all Christmas music all the time. Ah, some Christmas music. "Some"= "200 songs". That's almost 10 hours of caroling, bitches.
In other news, I am knitting the Cursed Socks. I began the Cursed Socks last April, and got to end of the heel, when I realized that I had screwed up the heel. I'll wager that I had dropped the stitch and just knit the wraps, if that's even possible. But I can screw up my knitting in impossible ways because I am just that cool. So I ripped back to last row before the heel. And the I brought my knitting to a concert in a knitted bag. Because, again, I am just that cool. Too cool to realize that knitting has little holes that are just big enough for one of your favorite Clover dpn's to make a try for freedom, and succeed somewhere around Riverside park. Then, being constantly jostled around in my bag, all of the other needles fell out too. At least those had the good sense to stay in my bag, even though that meant my knitting unraveled another couple of rows. So I threw the whole thing in my knitting pit. No Susan Bates after Clover. A month and a half later I finally made it up to Romni to buy another set of Clovers. And Romni does have Clovers... in every size but the one I need. So I cough up some extra change for a set of Crystal Palace needles. And those are also thrown in the knitting pit as I devote time to the Cursed Sweater, the sock's inbred, British-Norwegian cousin. After racking up negative knitting progress on that I knit Tam's scarf as I finally picked the Cursed Sock back up, knit to the end of the first sock, and lost another needle. In my own house. I found it after a morning of searching, bundled up in my pyjamas. I brought them down to the TV room to knit the second sock. Lost one on the floor. Fond it, went to get chips, and lost it again. I'm about halfway finished the second leg, but if they weren't a gift for my mom I would destroy them. Burn, baby, burn indeed.
And props to Tam for printing out those photos for me.
I've also put some Christmas music on my computer, since I'm not bringing any CDs with me, and around November 1st it's all Christmas music all the time. Ah, some Christmas music. "Some"= "200 songs". That's almost 10 hours of caroling, bitches.
In other news, I am knitting the Cursed Socks. I began the Cursed Socks last April, and got to end of the heel, when I realized that I had screwed up the heel. I'll wager that I had dropped the stitch and just knit the wraps, if that's even possible. But I can screw up my knitting in impossible ways because I am just that cool. So I ripped back to last row before the heel. And the I brought my knitting to a concert in a knitted bag. Because, again, I am just that cool. Too cool to realize that knitting has little holes that are just big enough for one of your favorite Clover dpn's to make a try for freedom, and succeed somewhere around Riverside park. Then, being constantly jostled around in my bag, all of the other needles fell out too. At least those had the good sense to stay in my bag, even though that meant my knitting unraveled another couple of rows. So I threw the whole thing in my knitting pit. No Susan Bates after Clover. A month and a half later I finally made it up to Romni to buy another set of Clovers. And Romni does have Clovers... in every size but the one I need. So I cough up some extra change for a set of Crystal Palace needles. And those are also thrown in the knitting pit as I devote time to the Cursed Sweater, the sock's inbred, British-Norwegian cousin. After racking up negative knitting progress on that I knit Tam's scarf as I finally picked the Cursed Sock back up, knit to the end of the first sock, and lost another needle. In my own house. I found it after a morning of searching, bundled up in my pyjamas. I brought them down to the TV room to knit the second sock. Lost one on the floor. Fond it, went to get chips, and lost it again. I'm about halfway finished the second leg, but if they weren't a gift for my mom I would destroy them. Burn, baby, burn indeed.
And props to Tam for printing out those photos for me.