I've spent the past couple of days feeling sorry for myself. Lying in bed mostly and feeling sorry for myself, when not engrossed in knitting and Slings and Arrows. My back was killing me after some emergency raking on Sunday, so I decided to take it easy. Later, I learned that lying in bed is one of the worst things that you can do for a back ache. Not surprisingly, spending a day in bed did not make it feel better, but a long soak in the tub certainly helped.

Maybe it's just not my week. My eyes were itchy a couple of days ago, so I decided to toss my disposable contacts and wear my specs. It's good to give the eyes a break every once in a while (coincidentally, the same days that I was laid up with my aching back). Today, I was off to meet a couple of friends that I hadn't seen in a while, so I decided to switch back to the contacts. I grabbed the bag from under the sink where my contacts were stashed and discovered that instead of containing two boxes of contacts, it held a starter kit of solution. Shit. I have no contacts and I really like having peripheral vision. And the hot/cold glasses fog that happens this time of year? Hate it. I had dinner with my mom at Ikea and suggested contacts as an xmas present. Hopefully, an early xmas present. I have Madama Butterfly coming up and I don't think I can work my opera glasses while wearing regular glasses. Hell, I can barely work my opera glasses while wearing my contacts.

I had dinner with my mom at Ikea. That might seem weird to some, Ikea as a dinner destination, but they have the best Swedish meatballs. Well, the best not made by a member of my immediate family. I got the new 2009 catalog and visited their xmas section. The trip to Swede-o-rama made it feel like the holidays. Ikea has the best stuff for xmas: several different design concepts in tree decor and gift wrapping. I was kind of sorry that I'd already bought my wrapping paper for the year, but strong armed my mom into buying a very sharp set of metallic tone-on-tone patterned paper. Xmas paper doesn't need to look so Christmassy, all Santa Clauses and candy canes. It should look refined and rich, like the present it encloses is a wonderful, well thought-out treasure.

While searching for a present for my cousin Chris and killing a bit of time this afternoon, I wandered into a certain used bookstore at the corner of Clark and Sheffield that shall remain nameless. I will not return there. They always have interesting books in their window display and the occasional copy of Tin Tin, but in the future, I'll just window shop. What did they do to piss me off? Well, they insisted that I check my purse. My purse. Not some voluminous, Lady Bracknell type handbag or giant sack, but one of the smallest bags that I own. Not useful for shoplifting. When I explained that the bag in question was my purse, they still insisted. They kindly offered to let me take my wallet out first (ironically, not in the purse), but I didn't have room in my pockets for the equally valuable ipod and checkbook. I don't like being separated from my purse. I should have left then, but instead I seethed for a few minutes and decided not to buy anything there. I understand that they are concerned about theft, but they could handle it a lot better. So, it's Powell's for me from now on.

In an attempt to expand my wardrobe and break up the xmas knitting marathon, I've picked up one of my UFOs again. I'm putting the sleeves on my Matsuri cardigan. It's a gaily colored cotton and wool blend yarn from Noro, which stripes. Boy, does it stripe. I can't decide if it's ugly or not. It has a definite Noro look, which isn't for everyone. At least it isn't as bad as the garment that one of my former co-workers described as looking like the time that she fed the dog crayons when she was a kid. I want to get the cardigan done in time to wear to a couple of holiday events, which I think is a very attainable goal. I'm in good shape on the present front. Just a few hats to make still. Hats for people with Ted Kennedy sized heads, but that's nothing new. My mother always says that "my" side of the family has thick skulls. It wasn't until I was in my late teens that I understood that to be a double entendre.