Bring Your Trombone Sir

I had a two LYS day yesterday. I had a store credit at the first one. I like that store; it's like an art gallery for yarn. Everything is very beautifully presented, but it's still not my favorite. I feel guilty when I cheat on my "real" LYS, especially since the assistant manager told me not to cheat on her. She was half joking at the time and we were a little drunk. So, I was on a mission for yarn for baby sweaters. There was a time, until quite recently, when I wouldn't be caught dead knitting baby things. Now that Lisa has babies, I'm like the crazy aunt. So, at LYS #1, I wisely used my credit on some RYC Cashsoft. It's cashmere! It's machine washable! What else could you want?

At LYS #2, I paid a visit to my designer to talk shop. She's awesome and definitely the reason why the store rocks. I was weak. More yarn followed me home. My justification follows: it's a birthday present. A birthday present that has to be knit in secret.

I went to Wendy's after work the other night, because I was hungry and shameless. The drive-through was closed, so I had to ask about it when I went in. Mysteriously, the service was just as slow if not slower when I went in. Just proves my theory that all the stoners work the night shift. Apparently, someone drove the wrong way through the drive-through and repeated drove into the wall. Now, I don't know how badly they fucked up that person's order, but I must suspect that they did something to piss them off. Oh, and there was probably booze involved too. I had to laugh, since it's the sort of thing that would end up in News of the Weird, "Man Attempts to Drive Through Drive Thru Window". Hee.

Work is, well, work. I think at least once a day that I wish I had a job where I could knit at work. Oh, right, I'm a test knitter. Let me rephrase that; I wish that I could knit at my real job, but that clearly would make my boss's head explode. Not much going on. Today, I heard one o my coworkers talking on the phone about the "Duh-jango" Reinhardt festival and died a little death inside. Not in the French meaning of the phrase. I should have corrected her, but couldn't think of a way to do it without being condescending or bitchy. I guess I could have said something along the lines of 'did you know that Django Reinhardt is the only jazz musician with two silent Ds in his name?'. Oh, and he rocks.

I finally broke down and bought the Jamiroquai partial album that I've been eying on itunes lately. Damn those partial albums. They're just a scam to charge more. I was pleased to see that they've released the Traveling Wilburys' album on itunes, since it's so hard to find. Then I saw the price. Sure, it's probably worth it, but I find the real appeal of itunes to be the lower bottom line.

Clearly, I needed a little funk in my life, because that Jamiroquai album really hit the spot on the way into work today. I really need to bring the energy when I'm working long hours. Sadly, the SFW standards for music are pretty stringent in the office, so no funk, electronica/ambient, indie Canadian singer/songwriters, etc. As a result, I was ready to crawl under the desk and take a nap around 7pm. My circadian rhythm is such a mess right now that I'm having that 4 pm slump three hours later than everyone else.


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