Oh, the joy of moving, especially halfway across the country. Definitely puts a damper on projects of the sewing/knitting persuasion when you're trying to pack up your crap and/or find somebody else to pack up your crap and ship it on its way and you uncover stashes of things you didn't remember existed and, honestly, at a time like this, really kind of wish had stayed that way. (Oh, the Asian print tunic top I was going to make. Oops.) Then there's trying to find a box big enough to accommodate the cutting mat I never use. Or the nest of shredded paper I found under the--now emptied out!--drawer of my sewing table. Actually, I can see why the cat tries to get in there all the time now.
And then factor in trying to balance a long-term task like lace-knitting with *important!* chores like cleaning the bathroom, vacuuming the floors (a losing battle at best when you have a long-haired human with a long-haired pet, both of whom shed like the dickens), and finding a legitimate moving company that ships cars. The bathroom saga is proof that nobody should ever have to put up with me as a roommate. Also, my brain seems to have decided that the reason why my ideal schedule this week seems to be staying up till 2 and sleeping in till 10 is that it thinks it's the summer hols. Its words, not mine. Seriously, what's up with that, brain? That paired with a sudden craving for Indian food and beer. Honestly, I should get back to knitting, or Dalek cross-stitch, or editing a poetry collection, or whatever it is one does while procrastinating.
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