I thought they liked me

The cats have not left my side today. Even Edgar is yowling from downstairs, and comes up of his own volition occasionally.

I thought that it was because they were happy I'm at home, and available for snuggling on the sofa (knitting and watching Julie & Julia this morning with my coffee. Good times).

Nope. I'm totally wrong. See, last week I bought some high-end cat food instead of the usual value-priced stuff (the high-end stuff was on sale for a ridiculously good price).

The buggers want to eat. All. the. damned. time. I'm just the person who pours the food into the dishes.

This is a very special weekend

in that I am at home. Alone. No co-ed sleepovers, no phone calls every couple of hours, just because (Mustache Man is out of town, and though I miss him greatly, I'm thrilled to be just chilling out on my own).

It's heavenly.

Yesterday, I cleaned my bathroom from top to bottom, including washing the ceiling and walls (long overdue, by the way).

I was so pleased with myself that every time I peed today, I opened the vanity drawers, just to look inside.

Yes, I am a dork.

Tonight's project was to go through the chests of drawers in my bedroom. I have two. One is an old-school washstand, and functions as my bedside table, and the other is well, a chest of drawers. It holds my underwear, t-shirts, shorts, jeans, well, anything that doesn't need to be on a hangar, and the bedside table holds my jewellery, the hot-water bottle, a spare blanket, and certain other bedroom accessories (if you know what I mean, and I think you do!).

It was a tough job, throwing out all those stained and too-tight t-shirts saved for painting that I will never do; the nude panty-hose I will never wear because it's better to go bare-legged now; the thongs that I will never wear because I refuse to floss my butt, the PJ's I will never wear because well, I've worn them so much that the fabric has disintegrated.

Onward. Upward. Tomorrow: kitchen. But only the upper part. Cleaning the kitchen is a very big job, especially when there's excessive grease residue from cooking bacon.

But before I start that project, I'm totally cooking bacon and eggs tomorrow. For one. And, it will be great.

Skinny sticks and skinnier string

It is common knowledge, among my knitting peeps, that the skinnier the sticks and string, the happier I am.

There is a reason I knit mostly socks - skinny sticks and string are required.

But. I do have a favourite "big" needle size. It is 4 mm. That's right, a big needle, to me, is 4 mm in circumference.

I also have a favourite super-skinny string. It is Malabrigo Lace (#242, Intenso. Scroll down). A dreamy, heavenly, super-soft single that knits up into a lacy, airy wave that you'd think you were knitting a cloud (if clouds were hot pink and orange, that is).

So, when my peeps on LSG suggested a knit-a-long for the Geodesic Cardigan in the most recent Knitscene, well, I'm in.

How cute is this? It's adorable!

I've got the yarn and the needles. I need a cardigan.

(P.S. I started swatching tonight).

The downside of co-ed sleepovers

As I've stated repeatedly in the last four months, I've done got me a man. And while I am annoyed at myself for taking as much joy in this as I have, I'm not really sad about it, and am wholly unprepared to change the situation as it now stands. I'm even getting used to talking about him incessantly, because it's been so long since there's been a man in my life worth talking about. Someone that I like, respect, and who only annoys me a little. To be honest, I even kind of miss him when he's not around.

There is a downside. I'm home even less than usual. Chez Peepee is missing me, and I miss it. Today, I arrived home, after scooting out for a booty call at 9 pm last night, to find my newly finished lace scarf, one 16 months in the making, on the floor, and covered in cat barf. I haven't even taken the FO pics, and here I am, blocking it again. Stupid cats. At least it wasn't poop.

So, I got some shit the other day

My dearest friend N, told me in no uncertain terms the other day to get back at blogging.

So, I am.

Since I stopped documenting my projects, I've made six pairs of socks, two-and-a-half sweaters, a hat and finished a shawl. I've uploaded the pics to Flickr, and I might get those up on Ravelry. Maybe.

The most important thing, however (and it makes me sort-of sad to say that this is important - what has happened to me?) is that Mustache Man referred to himself as "your partner" the other day.

The bugger is listening to me! He's heard and understood that I despise the word "boyfriend."

I've found a man that listens! Holy shit, he's been proposing since our second week of acquaintance, and I've been blowing him off, because it is way, way too early for that. But still, listening is an attractive quality in a man.