Just a short post to let the internet know that I can't write a decent post right now. This week is not going my way in so many different ways that it's hard to know where to start the story of how I hate it. I'll give you a list, because as Femiknitter knows, there are few things I like as much as a good list.
1. It freaking snowed last night. Ugh. Winter is starting to act like the scummy, needy ex-boyfriend who won't leave you alone and leaves notes for you on your doorstep and slowly creeps into stalker territory. Winter is a stalker. Go away, Winter, you bastard.
2. I can't count. I have now put the heel in one of my socks twice, and both times I have had either too many stitches or too few. I have temporarily banished them until I have my wits about me. This may take a while.
3. I don't know what month or week it is. Seven times this week (and keep in mind that I'm writing this on Wednesday morning, so that makes it "in two days") I've thought that it's either next week or 5 weeks from now. Seven times in two days. I need more of something in my diet. Probably more vacation.
4. The software switchover at work is not. going. well. Day one? 1500 errors from the offline/back up system we were using last week. Day two? Staff records still not uploaded. What could day three possibly bring? My money's on a plague of toads. Toads or book-eating locusts.
5. I had ten people clamoring to get into my beginner knitting class, and I could only take eight, and ONLY FOUR OF THEM SHOWED UP LAST NIGHT. I could spit nails. And one of the four women left right away. She already knows how to knit (using a spool to make i-cord) and just wants to know how to bind off (she'll come back on the last day). Another woman just could. not. get. it. I felt so bad for her, especially after a 7-year-old girl came up to us while I was helping her do the long-tail cast on (she was trying to use two needles; she never did get it), and told us she learned to knit when she was five years old. After a while this woman just sat and cackled and tried to knit with three straight needles (I honestly have no idea). I don't know how to help her, especially as I've already put my hands on her hands and demonstrated the knit stitch and she still did not get it. Fortunately the other two women took to knitting like ducks to water and are even knitting continental (yes!). Only one of the four people who showed up actually brought the yarn (Cascade 220) that I put on their required materials list.
And now I have to get ready for work (deep sigh). I wonder how this day will go.
Showing posts with label the idiocy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the idiocy. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
A Miracle of Time Management
This is what it says on my latest KnitPicks order...
Order Number: ******
Order Date: 3/4/2007
Status: Shipped
Ship Date: 3/8/2007
Note the date of today's post. Note the ship date.
Now, maybe they have a time machine that makes it possible for the future (3/8/2007) to be in the past ("shipped") and if that's the case I want it, or maybe they're just doing some really good drugs. In which case I want those, too.
Order Number: ******
Order Date: 3/4/2007
Status: Shipped
Ship Date: 3/8/2007
Note the date of today's post. Note the ship date.
Now, maybe they have a time machine that makes it possible for the future (3/8/2007) to be in the past ("shipped") and if that's the case I want it, or maybe they're just doing some really good drugs. In which case I want those, too.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Really, I Cannot Be Trusted
It's been a while since my last post, and I'll tell you why. It's been a while because last week was highly annoying and I couldn't adequately put my mind to wearing matching socks, much less turning out a semi-coherent (or even quasi-coherent ... does that mean the same thing?) post.
Work was more demanding of my brain than usual, I forgot appointments, and I double-booked myself for the weekend which was painful beyond belief (Heather? I'm still sorry). It was like my brain just evaporated and my body was left to deal with everything.
And on Wednesday I dumped a 10 oz. glass of water into my knitting bag.
Of course I immediately turned into a swearing tornado of crazy and flung the contents about the room. And then I got the camera. What? Like you wouldn't.
As it turns out, my past self was extraordinarily cautious and smart, and kept most of the wool and alpaca in plastic bags, and the patterns in plastic sheet protectors. I was one smart cookie, once upon a time. The only casualty was my notebook -- just a cardboard cover, spiral bound thingy -- which got some water damage on the bottom, but the notes are all safe. So that was exciting.
I have more to talk about (actual knitting pictures! of more than one project!), but it'll have to be later because my brain still has not solidified enough to be called "present." I think I'm getting my period soon. Neat!
And if you click here, you'll understand why being busy elsewhere on Sunday was tough.
Work was more demanding of my brain than usual, I forgot appointments, and I double-booked myself for the weekend which was painful beyond belief (Heather? I'm still sorry). It was like my brain just evaporated and my body was left to deal with everything.
And on Wednesday I dumped a 10 oz. glass of water into my knitting bag.
Of course I immediately turned into a swearing tornado of crazy and flung the contents about the room. And then I got the camera. What? Like you wouldn't.
As it turns out, my past self was extraordinarily cautious and smart, and kept most of the wool and alpaca in plastic bags, and the patterns in plastic sheet protectors. I was one smart cookie, once upon a time. The only casualty was my notebook -- just a cardboard cover, spiral bound thingy -- which got some water damage on the bottom, but the notes are all safe. So that was exciting.
I have more to talk about (actual knitting pictures! of more than one project!), but it'll have to be later because my brain still has not solidified enough to be called "present." I think I'm getting my period soon. Neat!
And if you click here, you'll understand why being busy elsewhere on Sunday was tough.
Monday, August 21, 2006
On the bright side, the carpet is cleaner
Friday afternoon no, not even. It was still the morning. Friday morning I was struck with the urge to do laundry (the Rash of Doom kept me home from work for a few days, and apparently introduced a housework ethic which was certainly not there before). We were, of course, out of laundry detergent so I went to the local Jewel and purchased one (1) brand-new jug of laundry detergent.
Not 15 minutes after the new jug of laundry detergent was in my house, I was trying to get the dryer balls (which I absolutely love, by the way, for towels & sheets) from the topmost shelf in the tee tiny laundry supply/paper towel storage/linen closet/medicine cabinet/vacuum cleaner storage area. (Pay close attention to that last one) Like an idiot, I sort of only kind of balanced the new jug of laundry detergent on a seemingly stable stack of towels while I groped on the top shelf for the aforementioned dryer balls (sometimes 5-foot-6 seems like enough, and sometimes it falls woefully short).
As often happens when I act like an idiot, the universe caught on to me and made good use of its time in teaching me a small lesson about gravity. About how gravity always, always wins out over a seemingly stable stack of towels.
The jug of detergent (full, mind you, and just minutes old) toppled off its perch and fell directly onto the vacuum cleaner whose crevice attachment was STICKING POINTY-PART UP, and was immediately punctured. It proceeded to follow the laws that govern such things and glugged thick, viscous laundry detergent all over the carpet.
I picked it up (still glugging) and put it in the bathroom sink (thankfully mere steps away, though of course plenty still managed to find its way to the carpet). After I regained my wits, I placed the jug (no longer full, but still only minutes old) with the puncture hole at the top so no more would glug out into the sink and waste more of my money.
(Practical Household Hint: if this ever happens to you, immediately pour yourself an adult beverage of your choice, and drink it straight away. This will help quell any hysteria and keep you focused on the task at hand. I didn't do this initially, and lost valuable calm-thinking time to abject-flipping-out time. Not pretty.)
By the time I figured out what to do (it took a long time because of the non-drinkng and because my Mom wasn't answering her work phone), the damn gooey stuff had sunk into the carpet and colonized my hallway like it was some gelatinous empire. My first attempt--soaking the detergent up with a sponge & bucket of water--was short-lived and involved a lot of swearing. Inquiries at the neighbors' revealed that the local hardware store rents carpet shampooers for a mere $20.00. Of course, by the time I got to the hardware store, they were renting out their last one just as I walked in the door.
I rented a cleaner on Saturday (no, thank you young hardware store dude, but I don't need the upholstry shampoo for this particular job), cleaned the hell out of my hallway carpet, and proceeded to do laundry all afternoon, spilling nary a drop more (though the cursing was profuse).
(Practical Household Hint: if you happen to drop a whack of laundry detergent on your floor and clean it up with handtowels--or whatever's handy in the linen closet--you can just toss those handtowels or whatever into the wash. No need to add soap! Convenient for those times when all your soap is coagulating in a puddle in your hallway!)
Not 15 minutes after the new jug of laundry detergent was in my house, I was trying to get the dryer balls (which I absolutely love, by the way, for towels & sheets) from the topmost shelf in the tee tiny laundry supply/paper towel storage/linen closet/medicine cabinet/vacuum cleaner storage area. (Pay close attention to that last one) Like an idiot, I sort of only kind of balanced the new jug of laundry detergent on a seemingly stable stack of towels while I groped on the top shelf for the aforementioned dryer balls (sometimes 5-foot-6 seems like enough, and sometimes it falls woefully short).
As often happens when I act like an idiot, the universe caught on to me and made good use of its time in teaching me a small lesson about gravity. About how gravity always, always wins out over a seemingly stable stack of towels.
The jug of detergent (full, mind you, and just minutes old) toppled off its perch and fell directly onto the vacuum cleaner whose crevice attachment was STICKING POINTY-PART UP, and was immediately punctured. It proceeded to follow the laws that govern such things and glugged thick, viscous laundry detergent all over the carpet.I picked it up (still glugging) and put it in the bathroom sink (thankfully mere steps away, though of course plenty still managed to find its way to the carpet). After I regained my wits, I placed the jug (no longer full, but still only minutes old) with the puncture hole at the top so no more would glug out into the sink and waste more of my money.
(Practical Household Hint: if this ever happens to you, immediately pour yourself an adult beverage of your choice, and drink it straight away. This will help quell any hysteria and keep you focused on the task at hand. I didn't do this initially, and lost valuable calm-thinking time to abject-flipping-out time. Not pretty.)
By the time I figured out what to do (it took a long time because of the non-drinkng and because my Mom wasn't answering her work phone), the damn gooey stuff had sunk into the carpet and colonized my hallway like it was some gelatinous empire. My first attempt--soaking the detergent up with a sponge & bucket of water--was short-lived and involved a lot of swearing. Inquiries at the neighbors' revealed that the local hardware store rents carpet shampooers for a mere $20.00. Of course, by the time I got to the hardware store, they were renting out their last one just as I walked in the door.
I rented a cleaner on Saturday (no, thank you young hardware store dude, but I don't need the upholstry shampoo for this particular job), cleaned the hell out of my hallway carpet, and proceeded to do laundry all afternoon, spilling nary a drop more (though the cursing was profuse).(Practical Household Hint: if you happen to drop a whack of laundry detergent on your floor and clean it up with handtowels--or whatever's handy in the linen closet--you can just toss those handtowels or whatever into the wash. No need to add soap! Convenient for those times when all your soap is coagulating in a puddle in your hallway!)
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Smaller than a breadbox
Guess whose digital camera fits in a wine glass?
Yes, that would be mine. I found this out on Saturday night at my first-ever bridal shower. While Nick & I were taking really cute "we're in love and in a garden" pictures. While I was holding a half-full glass of wine.
Sigh.
Heather was helping us out by taking the pictures (and doing a damn fine job of it, by the way) and when she handed me my tiny-ass camera, I promptly slam-dunked it into my wine (it's a slippery rectangle--no place to grip at all) (and may I say that I wanted to buy the bigger camera with the grippy thing, but that I caved to my Beloved's desire for a tiny camera that will fit into a pocket and also A WINE GLASS).
So I'm standing there in complete shock, paralyzed by my idiocy, for what feels like 10 hours. Meanwhile, Nick grabs the camera and runs to the house, asking for paper towels. I slam the rest of my wine (now camera-flavored!) and follow, thinking about how much that camera cost and how pretty the pictures are that were on that memory card. As soon as we get to the house, our Lovely Hostess announces that it's time to open presents. Of course it is.
I ask her to delay the presents as our most expensive co-purchase lays dying (because at this point, more wine is coming out of it than I thought possible), and I hover as Nick works. Hovering always helps, right? Right. I finally had to go open presents, but Nick stayed on the porch, pressing wine out of the highly expensive digital camera that wasn't yet 6 months old. He came in later and sat next to me and when I asked about the camera he just shook his head and looked grim.
The camera was dead.
Or so we thought until the next morning (after drinking heavily to combat the gloom)! He turned it on just before leaving for Best Buy and the damn thing worked! Everything works! Everything still works! And our pictures were there! Holy hotdamn hell!
So I'm not out $$$, which is nice. I am going to buy my camera a good cleaning, though. And possibly its own velvet bed. Probably also a lifejacket. But no wine.
Pictures taken both before and after the dunking:
Ed.: This was all ready to post yesterday, but Blogger was playing a little game called "Let's Screw Everything Up And Drive Away Our Users." I was not having fun.
Yes, that would be mine. I found this out on Saturday night at my first-ever bridal shower. While Nick & I were taking really cute "we're in love and in a garden" pictures. While I was holding a half-full glass of wine.
Sigh.
Heather was helping us out by taking the pictures (and doing a damn fine job of it, by the way) and when she handed me my tiny-ass camera, I promptly slam-dunked it into my wine (it's a slippery rectangle--no place to grip at all) (and may I say that I wanted to buy the bigger camera with the grippy thing, but that I caved to my Beloved's desire for a tiny camera that will fit into a pocket and also A WINE GLASS).
So I'm standing there in complete shock, paralyzed by my idiocy, for what feels like 10 hours. Meanwhile, Nick grabs the camera and runs to the house, asking for paper towels. I slam the rest of my wine (now camera-flavored!) and follow, thinking about how much that camera cost and how pretty the pictures are that were on that memory card. As soon as we get to the house, our Lovely Hostess announces that it's time to open presents. Of course it is.
I ask her to delay the presents as our most expensive co-purchase lays dying (because at this point, more wine is coming out of it than I thought possible), and I hover as Nick works. Hovering always helps, right? Right. I finally had to go open presents, but Nick stayed on the porch, pressing wine out of the highly expensive digital camera that wasn't yet 6 months old. He came in later and sat next to me and when I asked about the camera he just shook his head and looked grim.
The camera was dead.
Or so we thought until the next morning (after drinking heavily to combat the gloom)! He turned it on just before leaving for Best Buy and the damn thing worked! Everything works! Everything still works! And our pictures were there! Holy hotdamn hell!
So I'm not out $$$, which is nice. I am going to buy my camera a good cleaning, though. And possibly its own velvet bed. Probably also a lifejacket. But no wine.
Pictures taken both before and after the dunking:
Ed.: This was all ready to post yesterday, but Blogger was playing a little game called "Let's Screw Everything Up And Drive Away Our Users." I was not having fun.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
My Blog, My Self
I went tanning tonight (gasp! faint! horror! what? tanning? yes!) and learned something about myself in the process.
(Don't you just love these heartwarming after-school-special-type beginnings? Gag. Yes--I went a wee bit overboard on the cheezeball factor. Life is cheezey in spots. Whatever.)
Okay. So, tonight was my first time tanning. I was waiting in line to sign up and get my splendid dark spectacles, completely surrounded by college-age women, all blonde and thin and already tan, and I felt like it was my first day of school or something. I'm 5'6" and 160 lbs (which is 15 to 20 more than I weighed in college) and have been working in a basement with flourescent lighting for the past two years. I am not at my spiffiest. Sigh. Soldier on.
I get to a room with a plastic bed (or time machine, if you watch Family Guy) and the dude kind of rushes through the spiel and I ask a question and he sort of answers before he dashes back to the desk to deal with the other people in line (for we must get our post-spring break tans. Yes.) So I strip down (I'm naked in semi-public! Dear god!) and climb into the bed and push the button and the blue lights go on and I've got my eyes firmly shut with the splendid dark spectacles over them and I'm trying to relax and then I remember something:
I forgot to lock the door.
And so, for the next eight minutes I am completely freaking out. Every sound that I hear is people opening the door to my little tanning room and making fun of my chubby, naked body with THREE MONTHS WORTH OF LEG HAIR! And I couldn't get up to lock the door because I am terrified of those blue lights and what they might do to my eyes and what if I go blind and oh my god everything is awful.
And then it was over and I got dressed and left. And no one pointed, laughed, or combined the two so I think I was just imagining the public mocking. (but I will shave my legs before the next time I go. Probably.)
So, perhaps I had a point around here somewhere? Ah yes. The point is that I haven't really written about much other than knitting here, and it was because I feared the public point-and-laugh (or worse, the chasing-everyone-away). Ridiculous, really. I started this blog to join the crochet/knit/yarn community in a bigger way and it's silly to think that I could only write about yarn-related topics for the rest of my life.
If I tell the internets (or the 7 people who read this stuff) about my weight and my leg hair... I don't know what will happen. But it beats hiding behind yarn.
(oh my god, I just visualized playing hide-and-seek in a huge yarn shop. That's probably what heaven is like.)
(and did you notice the kind of (okay, a lot) cheezeball ending? Full circle, man. It's awesome.)
(Don't you just love these heartwarming after-school-special-type beginnings? Gag. Yes--I went a wee bit overboard on the cheezeball factor. Life is cheezey in spots. Whatever.)
Okay. So, tonight was my first time tanning. I was waiting in line to sign up and get my splendid dark spectacles, completely surrounded by college-age women, all blonde and thin and already tan, and I felt like it was my first day of school or something. I'm 5'6" and 160 lbs (which is 15 to 20 more than I weighed in college) and have been working in a basement with flourescent lighting for the past two years. I am not at my spiffiest. Sigh. Soldier on.
I get to a room with a plastic bed (or time machine, if you watch Family Guy) and the dude kind of rushes through the spiel and I ask a question and he sort of answers before he dashes back to the desk to deal with the other people in line (for we must get our post-spring break tans. Yes.) So I strip down (I'm naked in semi-public! Dear god!) and climb into the bed and push the button and the blue lights go on and I've got my eyes firmly shut with the splendid dark spectacles over them and I'm trying to relax and then I remember something:
I forgot to lock the door.
And so, for the next eight minutes I am completely freaking out. Every sound that I hear is people opening the door to my little tanning room and making fun of my chubby, naked body with THREE MONTHS WORTH OF LEG HAIR! And I couldn't get up to lock the door because I am terrified of those blue lights and what they might do to my eyes and what if I go blind and oh my god everything is awful.
And then it was over and I got dressed and left. And no one pointed, laughed, or combined the two so I think I was just imagining the public mocking. (but I will shave my legs before the next time I go. Probably.)
So, perhaps I had a point around here somewhere? Ah yes. The point is that I haven't really written about much other than knitting here, and it was because I feared the public point-and-laugh (or worse, the chasing-everyone-away). Ridiculous, really. I started this blog to join the crochet/knit/yarn community in a bigger way and it's silly to think that I could only write about yarn-related topics for the rest of my life.
If I tell the internets (or the 7 people who read this stuff) about my weight and my leg hair... I don't know what will happen. But it beats hiding behind yarn.
(oh my god, I just visualized playing hide-and-seek in a huge yarn shop. That's probably what heaven is like.)
(and did you notice the kind of (okay, a lot) cheezeball ending? Full circle, man. It's awesome.)
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