So my plan had been to make a vengeful blog post to judgementally lay the smack down on a former Bookman's manager of mine (let's call her... mmm.... Kaia) who apparently got her BA by having her husband write all her damn papers for her. Yes folks, that had been my plan, and it was going to be a long blog post complete with full names and seething rage. But then I got teh intestinal flu all weekend long and I was shown the humility of all mortal flesh and my plans changed.
Now I'd like to talk to you about sweaters and other domestic things. I'd like to talk about my Wicked sweater, in particular. When last you saw my Wicked I had decided to rip it back to the shoulder increases because it was too big. And I did that. And I knit it some more, until I got to a point where I decided that this time around the damn thing was a wee bit tight. So at that point I balled it up in a bag somewhere and focused on packing and moving. Then last week I did what I knew I had to and ripped it back again.
I ripped it all the way back.
I knew that there were things about this sweater I would change from the very beginning, and I decided that if I was going to spend this much time and energy on the damn thing (and let's not forget money; good yarn is es'pensive) then I might as well do it my way from the beginning.
I cast on more stitches than even the largest size called for because I like a wide neck. And then I made the neckband itself narrower so as to be a little comelier. Now I've been working diligently on those shoulder increases, but this time I don't feel strained or impatient. This time I think that perhaps the Wicked and I are reaching an understanding. We are making friends. Last night I tried on what I had and at that point it was still less of a sweater and more of a yoke, I suppose, but I could see that we were headed in the right direction. I am reaching a sort of first-sweater-zen, and the Wicked is my guru.
Also this weekend we had our new mattress and shelves delivered from Ikea. The mattress? King-sized! And after over a month on a full-sized camping air mattress it feels like the height of luxury. Mostly I just want to writhe around on it and make snow angels in the sheets because IT IS THAT BIG! And folks, sometimes bigger is better.
And the shelves? Huge also. They are taller than I am and wider than my wingspan. They look great and they totally dominate our living room, but you know what? Not. Enough. We unpacked all our books yesterday, and most of my books hadn't been unpacked in a year. Now, when we bought the shelves I knew we'd have to double-stack some of our books, because I'm a pessimist and I just knew the shelves wouldn't be big enough. But apparently I'm not enough of a pessimist, because I didn't think that we'd have to double-stack our books on every shelf just to fit them all but that is indeed what we did. We could've bought two of these shelving units and filled them both up. Easily.
Our books outnumber us. They definitely out-weigh us and they might just out-mass us as well. God help us if they ever revolt.