Blogger forced me to upgrade today. When I clicked on the old Blogger sign in it took me to the new Blogger sign in. Not that there was much reason to resist the change, but last time I tried it stuffed me around so much I gave in and have been avoiding trying again.
This time it appears to have worked. So far. Fingers crossed.
Thankyou to everyone who commented on my last post. I’m sleeping a bit better, thanks to good old evening primrose oil, but still stressed and feeling low. The beau doesn’t appear to be all that bothered, but he seems to be in the chilled-out all-the-time-in-the-world honeymoon stage of being unemployed after 22 years at his old job. I don’t really want to remove him from this state.
(But I think if I have to ask him to ring the architect one more time I may just pack a suitcase.)
It’s a good thing I’m enjoying the knitting of this:
The first Manly Mega Sock is done. I’ve started the toe of the pair.
I also finished the second sleeve of the High Verocity Jumper. I tried to take photos this morning, but they all came out blurry. It seems my hands are particularly shaky at the moment.
One annoying thing about this yarn:
Joins. It wouldn’t be so bad if the manufacturer actually bothered to match the colour. Or if there weren’t so many joins. I bought 13 balls. Four or five of them have had joins, and none of the colours matched. Either I’m unlucky, or that means 25% of Vero balls have mismatched joins in it. Not great odds, that.
I got most of this knitting done yesterday. My back is sore from knitting most of the afternoon and evening. Ironically, I actually didn’t want to be knitting all day because I knew it would stuff my back up. I wanted to be doing a whole lot of other things that I can’t do because a) there is no space here to do it, b) most of my craft and art stuff is still in storage, c) the garden is covered in rubbish, d) there is no chance in hell that the beau was going to agree to spend the day at a native plant garden centre.
Thankfully we’ve finally tracked down a gym almost close enough to call ‘local’, and I’m hoping I’ll get nice and fit from pounding out my frustrations on the treadmill on a regular basis.