Warm Westerly Breezes

I was having a crummy day on Monday. My internal plumbing issue was kicking up a major fuss, out of sheer malice as far as I could see, since I'd been adhering faithfully to the cheese-free, tomato-free, coffee-free, chocolate-free diet. It just plain hurt, and I couldn't find the instruction sheet and couldn't remember what (if any) painkillers I was allowed to take. I managed to make it through the day at work, then came home and collapsed in a heap. Unfortunately I'd been asleep for about half an hour when I got a phone call nagging me to complete a task I should have done but hadn't, and after that I was wide awake, so I checked on Taz and discovered that I needed to change not only his diaper and his clothes but the bed as well. I passionately hate changing that bed: it has both a headboard and a footboard, and the mattress is extra long, so there's no way to do it without getting rapped on the knuckles at least a couple of times. Taz was not at all happy. He sat on the floor complaining and demanding to watch Toy Story while I hunted down mattress pad, sheets, blanket. Finally I got him changed, tucked in and videoed, and slunk back upstairs.

When Grant got home from his choral rehearsal a little while later, poor man, he found a snarly, gnarly hag quite undeserving of the box he brought upstairs with him. He had to open it for me, since by then I had the patience and fine motor skills (not to mention all the social graces) of a starving camel.


For no good reason whatsoever, Margene had sent me a skein of STR in the Mustang Sally colorway. Also in the picture is some beautiful wool/mohair handspun, courtesy of Roxie. Thank you both so much! Well-timed, unmerited gifts are the best.