This is just one of a series of unfortunate events. Been a bit of a mixed bag around here this week with lots of little off-beat occurrences. It started on Saturday, I guess.
Off-Beat Occurrence #1: Carl works in the city during the week and is only home on the weekends. Last week, he worked Saturday as well. I figured I could knock out my Saturday house cleaning before he got home and I was right. Ahhh, clean, cozy and warm. He arrived about 3 with a half-dozen of his county buddies in tow, each clad in their winter uniform of thermal overalls, plaid jackets, boots and toques, and each equipped with a beer or two. Suddenly, doors were flung open to the elements and in was dragged acetylene canisters, a large blow-torch and various and sundry tool bags. They began cutting into the fireplace, shooting cinders, ash and smoke throughout the house, in preparation for our new sealed fireplace unit. Ah, me. Start over.
Off-Beat Occurrence #2: All week, I have been driven slowly mad by a crazed and clearly confused cricket. Apparently, he likes the radiant heating in the floors, although how he’s managed to live this long is beyond me. Charles Dickens says it’s good luck…good luck for the cricket, maybe.
Off-Beat Occurrence #3: This one takes the cake. After a good solid day of Christmas sewing, I settled in last night with a glass of wine and my knitting, chuffed with myself for having accomplished so much and tuned in to TCM waiting to watch “Bullitt”. I even gleefully posted to Facebook about how comfy-cozy I was. Then something whizzed past my head. I saw the shadowy figure of something flapping and soaring. I thought, “first a cricket, now a BIRD?!?” No. No, it was not a bird. I don’t have that kind of luck. No, it was a bat. A BAT. In my house. It flapped around, soaring and swooping down, aiming for my head for a good 10 minutes before I regained my composure and figured out what to do. I threw open the front doors. Then, with my arms over my head, ran upstairs and threw open the loft doors, then I jumped into bed and pulled the covers over my head. (What would you do?). I guess it worked. When I worked up the courage to emerge he was gone. Can you guess how he got in? THROUGH THE GAPING HOLE IN THE CHIMNEY LEFT BY HUBBY AND HIS SIX DRUNKEN BUDDIES, THAT’S HOW! (Refer to Off-Beat Occurrence #1).
Right. Knitting. I’m proceeding apace with the Timberline. The deadline is December 19. Over the weekend, I managed to get to the division row which means no longer am I working 300 heavily cabled stitches in a row. Now, why in heaven’s name would ANYONE go through that kind of torture just to avoid two little seams? I think I’ve said it before: good seaming is part of good knitting. ‘Nuff said. To keep it somewhat manageable, I’ve had to baste into a sort of big stretchy bag. Ugh. Onward, through the fog.