Four years ago when I moved in, my biggest concern was being near work. Now, my biggest concern is getting as far away from the city as I can, but not need to use a commuter plane to get to work. I don't know yet if it will work out; I'm not sure if I will be able to sell my house for much more than I paid for it, if even that (again -- thank you, "house flippers" for screwing things up). Why the animus towards house-flippers? 'Cause they buy a foreclosed house, slap on a coat of paint, call it "remodeled," and rent it out or sell it for less than the neighborhood average. So not only does that drag everything else down, it brings "people of questionable character" into the neighborhood. I walk by a group of ten year olds and hear them swearing like stupid little thug wanna-be gangsters, then their mother or father (or step-father or mother's boyfriend, covered in tattoos and with that fresh-out-of-prison pallor) opens the door and bellows curse words at them (really, a simple "get out of the street" would suffice). So, I'm going to try to get out before it gets worse. The agent comes to look at my house tomorrow, and I'm keeping my toes crossed she'll give me good news. I hope to move to a magical wonderful place where all four walls of the house are mine alone, and I can get to my backyard simply by walking AROUND my house, not through it!
So I spent all of today after work cleaning the house and shampooing the carpet upstairs, rearranging a few things, pulling weeds. I'm tired but hopeful. I chipped out the enormous block of ice that was 1,000 individual cubes stuck together in the auto-tray, and tossed it in the yard to melt. Now it's 94 degrees, I've just cleaned my house (with the A/C off because ... well, I wrote about that in an earlier post) and now I have no ice. $^#! I blame the house-flippers.
Enough griping ... on to the knitting! That is the purpose of this blog, after all.
Here it is, blocking. Edgar Cat feels very possessive of anything that is on "his" blocking blocks. Note the intent expression! He also claims all the T-pins as his own, too.
Was this on before? I think so. From "Think Outside the Sox." Coming along a little at a time, whenever I have the patience to squint at this nice dark yarn in a dim living room. These might be for me to wear.
Oooh -- I just heard ice drop in the bin. I have ice cubes now! Should I use them for water ... or for my Cutty Sark?