I took a sick day today to battle the creeping crud that seems to have opportunistically wrecked my body thanks to a week of VBS and one fan-fugu-tastic High Tea Blowout yesterday. Thank heaven I have a husband who supports my flights of suckiness; he let me sleep in to compensate for last night’s midnight bout of sleeplessness, and he took the small boy to the park when I decided that they needed air but that I was too vertiginous to help them get it.
As is my wont when I’m feeling low, I’ve been crafting all freaking day. Just simple stuff to help keep my sludgy brain moving and thus keep the mental gears from seizing up altogether. And yet, very satisfying. Today I finished a hat plus an enigmatic project of deepest mystery (I plan to submit the design, so I can’t indulge in online chitchat about it. All I can say is that it turned out reasonably well.) I also “finished” my first crochet project, like, ever…but as it needs a fair amount of sewing up, I don’t get to claim that one today. In my quest for easy project satisfaction, I even hauled out my navy bag two days ago, the one that’s been languishing unfinished for almost a year. At the rate I’m going on the seams, it should be ready by the time I take my second child for his first vaccinations. I bet the nurses will like it.
(Note to my sister: don’t hit the ceiling, Pixie, I’m not pregnant. I’m just making with the future jokes.)
Other than that, the only thing of importance I did today was get my butt to church for a very special service: the first service in a year and three-quarters in which I have not had a responsibility to anyone but my family. Freedom feels fantastic. Or it would, were I not blessed with late-summer blech.
Tomorrow: torrid tales of High Tea! Did Loftwyr throw a pastry? Did Monstre use salacious innuendo? Did Stacy wear something ginchy? Did Dirk wake up? Did Blake behave himself? Did Noizangel uphold her reputation as High Priestess of High Tea? Did Corona & Little Spider wear matching outfits? Was yarn discussed?
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*