I was looking forward to seeing the Waco Brothers play Martyrs. I recently worked on a show based on Jon Langford's work, so it was an exciting prospect. I told all my friends. My mental note to attend might as well have been in all caps, italics, and circled. This afternoon, I spent forever in the bathroom, putting on my makeup and practically singing Anita's part from the Tonight quintet in West Side Story (Yes, I am a nerd, but that is Sondheim and Bernstein.). I rushed through errands and dinner, afraid of being late for the show. Well, I was. Twenty-four hours late. Fuck. What a stupid mistake. I'd hoped to listen to great music and perhaps swap bodily fluids with a charming man and instead found a totally dead bar. At least I looked fabulous in my disappointment. What was I doing last night, when I should have been at Martyrs? Watching Project Runway and knitting a fucking mitten, unwittingly suffering the lingering effects of mercury retrograde. Friends that I inadvertently blew off, I apologize. I lift a glass of Courvoisier and wish that you were here, and that I had been there.


After writing that introspective New Year's Eve post, I had a dramatic reversal of fortune. Nothing permanent, but damned inconvenient.

After I picked up Winston from the vet, I noticed that he smelled like pee. Winston is particular about his hygiene, never smelling like pee, and certainly not near his head. I have no idea what happened while he was at the vet, but quickly realized that I'd have to give him a bath. Happy New Year, Winston! He was thoroughly unhappy with this turn of events. Can't say I really blame him. Soon, he and I were both cold and miserable, huddled under my new electric blanket.

Around this time, I discovered that my hot water heater had crapped out. It still made hot water, but it also made it all over the utility room floor. Bad news. My mom called my uncle Roy, who advised cutting off the valve to the heater and bleeding it. She came over, bled the water heater, and hustled me and a still quite damp cat out of the house. Poor Winston!

Fortunately, we were able to stay at my grandparents' house, where there are many heat ducts for Winston to hover, a heat lamp, and many, many places for a cat to explore. I would often stop over here to have a drink with my Grandfather on New Year's Eve, so it was a bit ironic that I ended up here. No countdowns or toasts for us, just curling up in a warm bed while the neighbors set off fire crackers.

Winston is curled up under a bed, and I am watching a Law and Order marathon, working on my Daybreak shawl. I am about two thirds done, which means many, many stripes. I decided to use Noro Silk Garden Sock, so most of the work is done in the striping for me, but I've been working from two balls to make single color stripes as the rows get longer and longer. This also allows me to cut out the colors that I don't like from the skeins without having to worry about the yardage. As my crazy color matching sleeves on my summer cardigan last year prove, I can never leave well enough alone where Noro is concerned.

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