11 February 2008

The downfall of handpainted, handspun yarn

is, simply, that once it's gone, it's gone. I bought one skein in NYC at the Greenmarket, and thought I could get a shrug out of it ... no, no. Well, let it be a hat instead. Maybe mittens. It's an appropriately wintry blue.

Obligatory news-related thing: the Kirkwood, MO shootings happened in the suburb next to my hometown, and one of the victims was a friend of my family's. We attended church in Kirkwood when I was growing up. Insane. Insane insane. That family ... they had two sons, and one of them committed suicide a few years ago. Suicide and murder both. I know this happens in more families than I can imagine. I know. I want to be knowing that all the time, not just be shocked by it when the names involved trigger my memory.

Work is swamping me. Beyond swamping, really; it was swamping two weeks ago, and now it's just beyond swamp. Beyond bayou. We're at sea, people. Under it, even. Deadlines are now irrelevant, because it all should be done already -- like weeks ago already. I am not slow; I am not lazy. I am simply swamped.

Today I made a list that I could have titled "things I need to do tonight so that I survive the next week." Let's call it that:

1.) laundry
2.) handwashing laundry, too
3.) dust and vacuum, or else face the wrath of the allergies
4.) groceries, I guess
5.) more freelance work
6.) sleep already

Wow. That good.

No comments: