I can't hear you, Harlot. I have All The Time In The World. I started my father's size 13, 7.5 stitches to the inch, sock(s) yesterday. Gonna spin that laceweight for my mom's thing too, and say nothing of my children... one time of year having a small family is not a bad thing.
It has been cold and dark here FOREVER. I think we had one nice day after Rhinebeck, when I did indeed plant bulbs. Maybe two, when I planted most of the rest of the bulbs. I still have not nearly enough (like 5 daffodils and some small stuff, scillas and crocus) for the Courtyard Garden (fancy name for area outside the Loom Room, whihc I only began to cultivate in maybe August), but since we're doing dank, dark, and rawr I am beginning to wonder if I'll get those in at all. After today and yesterday's rain, we're supposed to have a nor'easter for 2 days named Wilma. At least the air should be warmer.
I must take my hat off to Stitchy for coming up with a real Rhinebeck spirit-guardian.
So, my great Paroxysm of Cleaning, the one I have been on since Rhinebeck? It looks a little better here, and there is some deep improvement, but we are also looking for shallow, superficial tidiness, the kind that offers you surfaces. We need to look pretty hard still. I am starting to lose enthusiasm, and it is not anywhere near done.
I though what if I FORBADE myself to do any shelving, any unpacking of boxes for a day? What if I did a little dyEing in pursuit of the right color to ply my Black Hills Gold (that's the one I started spinning August 29, yes)? SO I went up to the organized realm of roving and got some pale gray Mary Pratt and remembered why I was in an unpacking frenzy: because I need to unpack boxes to uncover the small gas thing in the glassed-in, uninsulated, leaky-air porch so we can install it in the Loom Room, which though potentially much more heatable now feels like USDA Zone 2. Those boxes look suddenly worth attempting again.
(Although there are 2 oz of roving soaking in a vinegar solution in the kitchen.)
I am murdering enough time by doing the second thumb of my modular mittens while reading blogs. I am finding myself so much less enchanted about doing the thumbs that I fear my fantasized career as a gloveknitter to the stars will come to nothing. At least I may have a Finished Project to show, one of these days. But none of my relatives would want them for Christmas.