So here I sit waiting for the rain/snow mix...yet again. Aunt Chrissy and I think it's a vast right-wing conspiracy that these weatherpeoples here in Hoosierville start each evening's newscast with "Apocalypse! Take cover! Massive amounts of snow is headed our way!" and then we end up having to wear shorts and t-shirts to the grocery store.
Speaking of which...I am procrastinating going to said place today because I just can't bear the thought of having to strap on the big gyrl sports bra and battle the post-Thanksgiving crowds. I'm pretty sure that my baditude will catch up with me tomorrow though when I realize that I will be sans cream for the morning cup 'o joe. And that will suck. Prodigiously.
Do you think that it's possible to become so addicted to one's stitching that a few days without can send you into a tailspin? Methinks I had better get my fanny in gear and just get on with The Spinster Stitcher Basket Of Christmas Stitching Cheer, or Santa Claus is going to fling a lump of coal my way and call it a day. I can't seem to get over my "Oh, won't you look at my latest finish" happy dance and just find something that will occupy my evenings the same way Rusty did.
(Isn't that just like a man? You jump up and down for months to draw his attention, and then once you've got it, you can't be bothered to take him to the Michaels for the 60% off framing sale.)
(And if you understood THAT, I think it's time you considered some very serious therapy.)
I did start Ms. Laura J. Perin's Box of Ornaments and am enjoying it very much. I feel rather bad, though, since I called Aunt Chrissy late one night and said "Hand it over, sister" and then found myself in her driveway stealing her chart and all of the threads right out of her studio. Who does that?! I'll have a photo for you as soon as the sun decides to return to the northern hemisphere.
So Stewey and I are seriously considering a nap, and I find myself useless when it comes to resisting. He prances into the office and looks up at me with his sweet little face and then before I know it we're snuggly warm under the covers and I'm thinking that I'm a genius for using such good smelling soap on him during his last b-a-t-h. It also doesn't help matters that his fur is so darn downy soft. Damn dog.
That's the rather blah blah blah report for a rather blah blah blah Tuesday here at Lake WoeBeSpisnter. I hope that your little corner of the world is more lively and fun and that your needles are flying!