It all started innocently enough. I was curious, that's all. I wanted to be able to chat and be hip and "with it". I wanted to be able to say "Why, yes. Of COURSE I'm on Facebook. Here's my homepage (or is it address?). Oh crap. I tried. I really did. But it was JUST TOO MUCH for this Spinster to process in a day.
I loved re-connecting with people that I'd lost contact with, but somehow I received hundreds of emails asking me to be friendly with people that I don't think I had ever met and/or heard of. I got so confused....I wanted to know how I knew these people and then the damn thing just had a mind of its own, so I did what any rational person would do. I ran away and hid under a blanket until it stopped.
I didn't make any progress on Strawberry Garden last night, but I did catch up on all of the DVR'd programs that seem to multiply like rabbits. What IS it about stuff in this house that seems to foster multiplication? First it was my stitchy stash. Then it was the pile of laundry. Now it's TeeVee programs. Could there be something in the water? Did somebody slip some kind of mass-multiplication fertility-inducing device into Chez Spinster without me noticing it? Oh boy, if Stewey suddenly starts sporting a "World's Best Dad" coffee mug I'm moving. To England.
Speaking of Stewey....he and I were awakened at o'dark hundred today by the howling of coyotees. I'm not kidding. Really. Howling. Of. Coyotees. In Indiana! Aunt Chrissy and I saw one last summer in the field behind my house, so I know he's out there, but apparently last night was the semi-final of Coyotee Idol. It was fascinating and creepy all at the same time. Stewey was not interested, however, and told me to wake him when it was over.
Today was supposed to be house cleaning and laundry day, but in the effort to reduce my carbon footprint, I've decided that sitting in the Happy Chair with tea and stitching would be much more advisable. Who needs all of that hot water, detergent, and dust clouding up the atmosphere? (You're welcome, Mr. Gore. Just doing my part, Mr. Vice President. Say Woo Hoo to Tipper for me, won't you?)
So I'll leave you with a pic of my stitching and a promise to stop being so damn CHATTY. I don't know what's gotten into me, but I can't seem to keep it brief these days: