For the last seven days or so I have been suffering from what Helpdesk Man informs me is a low-grade flu. For all I know it’s very low-grade leprosy or homeopathic ebola, but I will take his word for it. It is not unto death, just enough to prevent me from being productive and bouncy. Helpdesk Man has been a trooper throughout - this morning he took off his T-shirt in bed so I could blow my nose on it. We were out of hankies. See above re productivity. Anyway, marriage is a wonderful institution.
Actually I haven’t been totally unproductive. I have been well enough to knit, a few feeble inches at a time, and during my Week of Moop I not only completed a bowtie scarf but started a pair of armpit-length fingerless gloves using a snazzy diagonal eyelets stitch, the success of which has impressed my lurgy-addled brain immensely.
Also, I went to a party. Not this week. Before. It was a Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, and in a fit of brilliance two days before it I decided to go as the Queen of Hearts. So I bought an impressively vile red prom dress from the op shop and thought “I shall make an overskirt out of playing cards, for this will be Simple and Speedy”. It wasn’t, but thanks to a very long church AGM and the sweatshop skills of my tiny sisters, I got it done. The pig went as a single card, which actually was simple and speedy, but only because my little sisters did it themselves during said AGM.
Here do am be the pig, and myself twirling with Alice, the birthday girl.
K?
