Today is one of those days. The hills are a shade of blue that, if I could bottle it to save for later, could cool a fevered brow and calm an unhappy mind. It is impossible, I think - I hope - to see a sky like this one and still feel anxious. The causes of anxiety do not melt under it, but our ability to breathe and deal and move on increase under such a sky.
None of which means I can continue to ignore the pile of laundry waiting to be done. *sigh* But we can't have everything, can we, or we would become unable to cope with life. Which would be bad.
The scarf is done but for the cast-off row. I haven't gotten to it for two days. It is, I think, my most pathetic knitting fatuity to date. Or at least this year. Perhaps it's that I don't want to weave in eighty billion ends on fingerless gloves. Perhaps it's that I don't know what to cast on next. Perhaps it's just that since frantically knitting the last row before the cast-off edge on the bus two days ago I haven't had the 10 minutes to sit and do the rest. Perhaps.
