grouse grouse grouse

I'm in the kind of mood that you see 10-year-old boys in at the mall, when their clothes are a little too baggy, cuffs hanging down over their hands, and their whole bodies are limp and they're dragging their feet and draping themselves over benches and m o a n i n g. Except instead of saying "let's go hooooome," I'm saying "I just want to fiiinish sooomething."

Chevron Scarf: I have been knitting it for the last six forevers, and it's noooot doooone. Flutter-by is coming along, but I'm going to have to rip the toe of the first one, I can't trust myself to do more than two 4-row repeats of the eye-of-the-partridge heel in a row because it all starts to run together, and it's going to be at least couple more nights' worth of solid knitting. The pouch I'm designing is blocking, and it's noooot dryyyy, big surprise, I soaked it

a mere hours ago. Plus there's the zipper to contend with, and I hope you will forgive my language when I say that zippers are vicious little bitches. Although I can usually wrestle them into submission, I come out of the tangle a bit worse for the wear, and then spend most of the life of the knitted, be-zippered object eyeing it warily. I will say, though, that even when I've hand-sewn them in, they've tended to stay put. I guess I just don't trust their kind.

I suppose I could get the lining ready, but that requires getting the iron set up, and I doooon't waaaaant tooooooo. But, if I do, I could have a FO tomorrow.

Grouse grouse grouse.

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