Harrumph.

I've been keeping busy. I frogged the gaiter I was working on in the fine blue yarn (it's too fine for the project, even though it's the sort called for--ok, ok, it's too fine for me to use for the project. I really haven't got that much patience.) I restarted the same project in a heavier yarn, the red I used for my Rasta hat. I read the Yarnharlot's book, Knitting Rules!, in which she encourages you to make gauge swatches. If I hadn't taken her advice, it would have been impossible to convert the pattern for me. So I've got a swatch and a beginning pattern notebook, and I feel like a real-life, grown up knitter now. Well, sort of.

I'm still avoiding my sweater, though. I'm going through my chocolate time, if you know what I mean, and I feel this is a project to begin on a day when I'm feeling wrecklessly brave and confident, not sobbing into my cocoa-wheats at Hallmark commercials.

My cable's going in and out, too, and it's driving me nuts. I hate it when it sticks like that. I get about three seconds of a show, then a minute of black, then several more seconds of show, then black.... I'm about to slap someone. I want to watch this show! Grrrrr.

Oh, well. Gives me more time to read the book of Lovecraft stories I got out of the library. Thank God I don't tend to avoid authors based on their politics or personality, or I'd never read these. Eh. So far, he's no M. R. James, but he's ok.