If I were a prideful sort of person, I'd lead with the big story instead of making you wait for it. Of course, "big" is a relative term. What constitutes big news in my world is actually kind of small in the grand scheme of things. But it's been a rainy sort of day with nothing good on TV so if I want to make mountains out of my personal molehills, then I feel entitled.
On the more "incidental" end of the scale, I'm reporting back on the sprinkling of ants with vinegar. Last week, I mentioned that I was trying a mixture of 1 part vinegar, two parts water (sort of...), a couple of tablespoons of lemon juice and a few drops of dish soap to try and repel the spring ant invasion. I'd realized that this concoction, used to mop my floors for well over a year, may have been responsible for them not wandering around the kitchen and thought it might work in other areas.
I sprayed the living room rug a couple of times over the course of the week. Just lightly, mind you. I also sprayed the floor around the front door and, unlike the usual mopping routine, did not rinse.
Nary an ant in sight. Not one. I changed nothing else. My usual lax housekeeping remains fully in play. I still manage to leave half a can of soda sitting in the living room every night even though I promise myself I won't. I don't chase crumbs. The odd dish often sits unwashed in the sink. Still no ants.
The one downside is that the floor by the door is a bit on the slippery side these days. It's not noticeable in shoes, but slippers and socks make for a bit of an adventure in the morning. I'm going to start rinsing it again since breaking my hip and having to crawl over to the neighbor's for assistance is not something I'd like to do right before the start of summer break.
Otherwise, I'm thinking I may have scared away an ant or two. Which is fine by me. I hate ants. As much as I enjoy squishing them with extreme prejudice, I think this is a better solution.
With nothing crawling over my feet to distract me and a rainy Sunday all to myself, I had lots of time to knit. I knit like the wind. I knit like a woman possessed. I knit two whole inches of fabric! I'm a machine!!!
And, before I knew it...
I had what is most certainly not, in any way, shape or form, a sleeve.
The dishcloth (the codename assigned to all projects that need to fly under the radar lest they be cursed by the Knitting Demons) is now at that alarming stage where it just doesn't look right. I remember this from the last dishcloth. You just can't help but think that it is too short. It looks funny.
I am short through the body so it stands to reason that I would knit a dishcloth in a lesser length. I'm really not much more than a pair of bosoms and a head sitting on top of some legs. Shorter sweaters are good for me. And, having already knit this pattern in the exact same gauge, I know for a fact that it will work just fine. It's simply a matter of trusting my percentages and measurements.
Next up: Not-sleeve #2. Which is moving along slowly. I am trying something a little different and that is slowing things markedly. Further, it is taking a bite out of my pride so we'll save that for another day.
For now, we will bask a bit in the glow of a completed not-sleeve, call it a weekend well spent and practice our humble and not at all prideful expression.