Well, it's 841 am, and instead of making my way to work, as I should be, I am spinning my wheels at home. Today is the day that we move into the theater, when I'd like to be there to take blocking notes, but I'm in crisis mode. Simply put, there was a freak accident involving my cell phone and a bowl of water. The phone is, predictably, dead as a doornail. I had a small anxiety attack, then called my service provider. This is the week that I absolutely cannot be without a phone. What could I have done to deserve this? Plenty, I'm sure. Now I wait for the local store to open so that I can get a loaner phone, subject to availability, and get on my way to the far reaches of the north side. This sucks. A lot.
I've just started a scarf, to be given as a gift, out of sirdar snowflake, after making several unsatisfactory swatches last night from the self-striping mohair that I'd planned to use. Maybe I've gotten over knitting mohair scarves. It's a pain to work with, and terrible to tear out. So, I threw it back in my basket, where it will sit until I need to make another hat.
I'm going to go shovel the driveway. A lot of snow was dumped on us last night, and it still appears to be falling outside my window (of course, it could just be blowing off the roof). It was the sound of a neighbor's pick-up truck plowing attempts that finally roused me from my bed this morning. That is a dreadful noise, but seeing as the local municipal government seems unaware of my street at times like these, I am glad that someone's doing it.


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