So how many days, exactly, is it appropriate to go around without getting dressed? I think I'm probably over that number. The thing is, we're really hoping to find a place to rent or whatever before we list the house so we can take our clutter and a little extraneous furniture and, more importantly, the dogs, and leave the house in show-condition. It's hard to make a house look like there aren't any inside pets with this going on:
So I've basically got the house base level clean so I can just pick up little messes and dust and vacuum here and there and keep it nice. Next step is packing up anything that we'd be able to take with us, but it's looking like it's going to be a week or 10 days before we're able to get into anything. And, I keep telling myself, we may just have to list it and I'll be driving around with three dogs and their food and other paraphernalia whenever it shows, so maybe I shouldn't start boxing things up just yet. Either way, I'm in no real hurry to get started on that. And my husband has run off with my Mini because it gets better gas mileage than his truck, so if I want to go anywhere, I have to drive something that's about 4 times the size of what I'm used to, and that makes me nervous.
So, instead, I wound up my Helleborus BFL singles and have sat on my tushie knitting a scarf all day.
I've never really thought of myself as a scarf-knitter, but I just can't put this down. I don't know what the deal is. I keep thinking, what will my husband say when he comes home and I'm still in my pajamas and this thing is about three miles long?* And then I think, ok, after this repeat, I'll get up and take a shower and run some errands. But I'm still here in my PJ's.
I have some squishee things to show you, though, and after I post this I can run one of them to the post office, so blogging is sort of like being productive.
Ta-daa!! Here's the Baby Surprise, with buttons and everything! The baby this is intended for was, last we heard, measuring in the 95th percentile for size, and his head was measuring in the 100th percentile. The daddy, a college friend of my husband's, is a big guy, so I didn't piddle around with any newborn sizes. The kid might never wear it. Instead, I went straight for the 1 year size.
As I've said before, the multicolor is my handspun (Summer Cabin BFL from FatCatKnits) and the brown is your standard Plymouth Galway Highland Heather. I followed the pattern and then, once done, picked up and knit an extra 5 ridges in brown on each cuff to match the solid button band, seamed it up, and then knit an applied i-cord on for the neckline. The neck looks to me like it might be a bit small, but since it's a jacket, they can always leave the top button undone, so I'm not terribly worried. What do I know about the size of baby necks, anyway?
The buttons are little leaves carved from coconut, and I think they're perfect. They're the same color as the brown yarn, so they're a nice detail without stealing the show.
When I was ordering fiber for this jacket, I got a few colorways that I thought might work because I didn't trust myself not to screw it up a couple of times. One was called "Sweet Promise" by FatCatKnits, and it was a superwash merino orange and brown and yellow, but when I got it I thought the oranges and browns were a little rosy for a boy's jacket. So, in the interest of learning to spin thicker, I pulled it out and practiced, and, voila, squishy, bulky 2-ply, about 80 yards.
I have no idea what I'm going to knit with it. Maybe a hat?
I don't know what happened when I was plying it, but I swear, I got stuck at a point where the bobbin was winding in a different direction from the twist. I could get it to wind on, but only if I spun clockwise, and then it would take the twist out, or I could get it to put more twist in, but it wouldn't wind. I had to break it off and start a new bobbin. Anyone have any clue how I managed that??
* Not that I need to feel guilty. Before last week, he was the one who was home all day, and he was not always productive with his time. And he's not really the type to berate me for my laziness (though he would tease me for it). Still, it's almost embarrassing. Almost.