Puh-leeeeeeeeeze!!

My cold rages on. I'm just an itchy, shivery, sneezy, drippy Sheepie. I'm not complaining...much. I know that I've been lucky this season and have managed to avoid most of the goo that's been going around. I'm not exactly happy about my having been struck down by that most miserable of viruses known as the common cold. But I suppose it could have been worse.

At any rate, it became clear around three o'clock this morning that I was going to need to make a trip to the grocery store for a supply of over-the-counter remedies if I was going to survive this with some measure of dignity. I was also out of Mountain Dew.

Things went fairly well right up until I hit the check-out. I have had something of a run of good luck at the grocery store of late so I wasn't all that surprised to see the registered being manned by Teenage Boy In Coma. I unloaded my few purchases onto the conveyor belt unacknowledged by TBIC who simply stared open-mouthed at the doors behind the register, perhaps contemplating the status of his Ivy League college applications. To be fair, it was early and I wasn't exactly alert myself. I figured if he didn't notice me in fairly short order that I could sneeze on him and make him aware of my drippy presence. Fortunately, this was not required. He began ringing up my items without my having to spray him with Sheep virus.

Things then took something of a strange turn. He tried to "card" me.

Let's set aside the fact that none of my purchases this morning required the showing of identification. Unless, of course, the sale of Dove Dark Chocolate Bars is now under the control of the state. And clearly this was not the case since the carding process was aborted once it was determined that my shopping list did not include tequila and limes. But, for me, this raised a series of other brain cramps.

I'm not delusional. On a good day, a very good day with subtle lighting, 8 hours of sleep and creatively applied cosmetics, I can pull off mid-thirties. Maybe. And I can assure you that none of those circumstances were at work under the harsh fluorescents of the local market early this bright and sunny morning. Twenty-one years of age was not even a consideration. I'm not being self-deprecating here. Just honest.

I can only assume that:

A) TBIC is suffering from a serious degenerative disease of the eyeballs

B) TBIC, noting the plethora of sickness supplies, opted to rouse himself from his coma long enough to toss out a random act of kindness

C) The prescription strength moisturizer recommended by my doctor to deal with my itchy, winter dry skin is more powerful than time itself

D) It is now de rigueur among the younger set to begin snorting drain cleaner before 7:00 am.


Whichever of the above may apply, it does not speak well of the observational powers of the youth of our nation. And, judging by his expression following a closer examination of my Sheepie visage, Teenage Boy In Coma is now aware of this.

Back on the homefront, I loaded up on a variety of medications designed to soak up the sinus tides then hit the fiber trail. Things progressed slowly given my snuffly state, but I now have a mere 14 rows and 7 decreases before I can say that all sweater components are off the needles and ready for assembly. OK...I haven't made the collar yet. But that is picked up and knit later so it doesn't count. Either way, I'm pretty close to the part I hate the most: finishing. I like being finished. I just don't like finishing.

I also completed one full bobbin of the unknown fiber and have begun a second.

Tah-Dah!!!

I have monitored myself diligently in an attempt at spinning a thicker single than I normally do. I don't know just when it happened, but it seems that I have become a spinner of the fine singles. I'm hoping for a yarn that is close to worsted weight and only want to do a two-ply. Funny how much more quickly the spinning goes when the singles are chunkier. Must make a note of that for future reference. I'm rather pleased with this yarn thus far. It's soft and squooshy. I think it will work rather nicely for a next-to-skin sorta garment. And I am a fragile flower with skin that is delicate like gossamer silk. The bright red nose that I am sporting right now after two days of steady blowing is an indicator of this. I require the softest of touches in my wearables. One must care for the epidermal layers, you know.

It is the key to my youthful appearance.

SA