Time has ceased to have meaning. Maybe it's just the holiday week. All my friends have some days off this week (some more than others). The TV schedule is all special presentations and best-of shows. We all got together with our families in the middle of the week, on Thursday. How does one keep track of regular time on a week like this? I'm not doing myself any favors by staying up late and taking naps when I can. Well, I mean, I am feeling more rested on those nap days, but that just makes the staying up late worse. Every day just feels like a Saturday. I had to stop and remind myself fifteen times at least that today actually was Saturday. Not that it changed how I have been behaving all week one iota.
I'm still working on crafting the same things as yesterday, although I didn't finish the second set of curtains as I'd intended. I've added several inches on the crochet piece that I expanded the wrong direction (I'm going to have a super long wrap, instead of a generously wide one). I had to buy three more skeins of yarn yesterday to make it fit, thus necessitating my trip to the craft store. I bent over it, glasses pulled off so I could see the details in black yarn, for so long that when I got up to get dinner, I immediately hit the floor. I didn't lose consciousness, but the whole world went sideways. It's what I get for compressing and contorting my spine for hours and then jumping up and imagining I could walk.
The cats have had a hard time leaving me alone when my attention is obviously directed elsewhere. No one appreciates it when a lap is unavailable due to wood carving or crocheting. They especially don't like it when they try to kill those dancing snakes of black yarn and rather than being praised, they are yelled at and chased away. That doesn't stop all attempts to get my attention, from walking across the crochet piece or chewing on the bag that the wood crafts were stored in. Cats hate crafts.
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