Too work at the estate or not to work. I've strained my trapesius muscle and lifting stone doesn't sound like such a good idea. Maybe I'll finish those designs and KNIT. Yeah, that's the ticket.
(And flirt with guys on BMB.com)
I have a very important class for my Apparel design degree on WEDNESDAY! My usual knit night. I'll miss gossiping with LARS! And the beer, and the naughty conversations with the girls over the needles. It TOTALLY SUCKS. (But the class: marketing for the apparel industry, is surprisingly good: The teacher is fast paced and really sharp. He totally ROCKS!)
Fighting the flying: The bane of all woolen knitters and especially us spinners as well who live in the county is wool-moths. But the smell of Mothballs is almost as bad. The best solution that is bearable, I find, is to make sure that woolen sweaters/ handspuns are stored clean. It was recommended to me that you put sachets of dried lavender or whole bars of "Irish Spring" soap (still in the box) in with your knitwear and yarns. My flat smells like a freshly washed rugby team. (I don't mind). And the sweaters have that fresh outdoorsy masculine scent that makes me think of rugged, burly, ginger-bearded men showering nekkid in the bushes. Ah, life is sweet.