with my ability to procrastinate.
Mini B's sweater is not going so well. The back has been put aside, because I'm at the point where I need to decrease for the raglan sleeves. I was not going to attempt the math, working from a top-down pattern but working bottom-up when I was well into my third beer. I'm crazy, not stupid.
Just for fun (and because I have oodles of time (ha!)) I cast on the neck as instructed in Five Fruits (but adjusting for gauge, naturally). I am not loving my button holes, and since intarsia in the round is practically impossible, I realize this is not a productive use of my time.
Today, Sunday, normally a pretty big knitting day at Chez Peepee, I have not even looked at the sweater. I have, drum roll please, been CLEANING.
A little background...
Before I purchased Chez Peepee, I was the biggest organizational, neat freak, obsessive compulsive behavioral person you had ever encountered. And, I liked it that way.
Not so much, in the last year. Buying this house, small and cute as it is, was a bite far bigger than I could chew. And events of the summer and fall have kicked my ass.
I have seriously neglected all household duties. Really, the only reason I appeared at work in clean clothes is because I am having an intense love affair with my washer and dryer (you haul your laundry nine blocks down the street on your back... for three years. Most of it soaking wet because you pre-treat stains and whites. You'd be in love, too).
If I had children, and some child-protective agency had come to visit, I would have lost custody of my children, for sanitary reasons. I AM NOT EXAGGERATING! When my brother and Mini B came for a visit a few weeks ago, I wouldn't allow them to take off their shoes, because the carpet was that dirty. And, my brother told my mom that my house smelled of cat pee. I see no reason to disbelieve him. The fact that I didn't pull out all the stops and clean frantically for my brother's impending visit is a pretty good sign that all is not well, mental-health-wise. Normally, no matter how bad I'm feeling, I manage to put on a pretty good show.
In conclusion, Mini B's sweater might very well be late this year. That's OK. Christmas, on the very day, is not a priority for my family. I don't need to go home until I'm good and ready. And right now, I need to be at home, perhaps finally having a go at that disaster of a basement. Because the smell is not just in my head.