Funny that on my second day of knit-blogging, all I could do is bang out a few anonymous rounds on my mom's socks while subbing this morning. You see, Red Sox games are mandatory around here, and last night's shellacking dragged on past midnight. My husband quickly hassled me into bed because he took a benadryl and was about to drop. I didn't have time to wind down and thus laid there semi-conscious all night, attempting to bore myself to sleep by restricting my thoughts to "breathing in.... breathing out." Not helpful. Moreover, Charlie cat, the pushy one, has figured out how to break into our room and was walking all over us and purring at hourly intervals. (Do your cats get extremely annoying in their adoration of you? Charlie just gets lovey and can't sit still.)
I had a merciful vacation from consciousness after lunch, but all that really did was shut off the tired while my eyes were closed. That leaves me with the following goals for the afternoon:
2. prepping Swedish meatballs for dinner
3. vacuuming up the allergens
4. putting the laundry in the dryer before it mildews
bonus: not hitting my head on the lightbulb or the scary, asbestos-covered pipe with the distressingly large dust-forest on top while I'm at it.
<-- The culprit
I will almost certainly end up at the Y, not because I'm fit, or keen, but because of guilt, and maybe the new flat-screen tvs.