Ambitious Plans Foiled by Arrival of New Issue of The New Yorker

I meant to go into work early today. Then the New Yorker came in the mail. I had to read it straightaway, because if you fall behind on your New Yorkers, there is no catching up. Also, the handymen that were supposed to arrive at "nine-ish" showed up around 12:15. That's one hell of an "ish". So, I didn't accomplish all of the things that I wanted today, but I got to read urbane prose. Today was a slow day at work, so I doubt a couple of extra hours would have gotten me very far. Maybe it was the storm and all of its moodiness.

I ran into an old acquaintance the other day, which was slightly awkward. She was as condescending as ever, saying "I thought you were going to go into theatre," and other such gems. She also went on to comment on my current employer, stating she'd tried to get a job there and they wouldn't hire her. Oh, where to begin. Don't get me wrong, I can be a priss at times too. I had truly forgotten the slow burn that her remarks cause. Further complicating matters: I saw here while she was applying at a business where I spend a lot of time (no hints, sorry). I really think that I would spend less time there were they to hire her, and therefore less money. That, or I'll have to practice my rejoinders. "You enjoy being critical, don't you?" usually shuts people down.

I don't mean to sound like such a misanthrope. I was pretty amazed the other day by a Good Samaritan. Apparently, I left my monthly pass on the train and someone found it, turned it in to Lost and Found, and called me. I hadn't even realized that it was missing yet. So, not everyone out there is a crumb.

I, unfortunately, have been knitting in denial. This is one type of denial so deep that it is rarely shared with a therapist. I worked and worked feverishly on the sock on the train, at Ravinia, in front of the telly. On some level, I knew that it was a little, em, baggy, but I soldiered on. I had to pull it all out. Okay, a setback, but not a major one. I cast on again, ignoring the ramen-like crimps in the recycled yarn. Well, they show in the knitted fabric, so I had to tear it out again. At that point, I really wasn't up to attacking it again, so I put the sock aside and worked on the languishing baby sweaters. Tomorrow is another day, after all.