Cracked out and sick

Thanks for all the sweet comments on Shedir! I would respond to all of you, but it's all I have tonight to post. Perhaps tomorrow.

I went to bed early last night feeling kinda (ok a lot) shitty. My dog woke me up at 2:30 begging to go out. Where he promptly got sick. I grabbed my pillow and a blanket and went to sleep in the living room so I could be close to him. He woke me up again at 4. Sick some more. This time on my living room floor. He seems to be doing better today, and the simple fact that he's eating is improvement. I still feel like shit and am going on less than 4 hours sleep. Mr. Pooh is going to the vet tomorrow if he gets sick again.

I went to work this morning, but as soon as my boss came in she sent me back home. Something about looking like hell and not wanting my germs. She's pretty awesome, so I refrained from giving her any icky poo germs and went home to sleep. Took a nyquil and stayed astonishing awake and cracked out. So I knit.



Meet my Cracked Out Calorimetry. I used what was left of my STR Lucy (from previous RPM socks) and size 2 needles (I think...it's on Ravelry if you're really dying to know).



Hello! I'm on the drugs! And wearing a knit hat thingy in the 90 degree weather! Whee!





Also, thank god for the queue on Ravelry. I'm much too big a dork to be expected to keep all my project desires in one space if not there, and I even have notebooks FULL of printed patterns). I keep seeing patterns I've looked at and loved before (sing along with me now: of all the knits I've loved before....). Then I'll race over to Ravelry and add them to my queue. Only to discover that they're already there. And that I'm a total doofus. I then promptly move those things closer to the top of my queue. If I like them that much, I should probably knit them soon and get them off my mind.

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Random aside:

Real life conversation, as Nate is heating leftovers for dinner:

me: what's that in the microwave?

he: your dinner.

me: (seeing the styrofoam container spinning around, practically grinning at me) NOOO! Chlorofluorocarbons!

he: we have seriously got to burn your pocket protector.

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