Best Intentions

My progress on Lucky is a lot like my progress on this blog. Every day, I intend to complete the cardigan. Every day I intend to quit being to incredibly lazy, take the camera out of its bag and shoot the handwarmers and Sabrina Tam Hat I recently finished to give proof to the world that, yes, I really do knit and not just talk about it. But alas. You'll note there's no picture of any knitting here. And I'm certainly not wearing Lucky (although I am wearing kick ass cowboy boots and brown fishnet stockings).

I'm not sure where the time flies off to these days. I race through work, striving to put in no more than the eight hours a day I get paid for. Then when I get home, I'm good for little but staring at the television. Not that that's all bad. It did allow me to witness probably the best line ever on Survivor last week. You know, the one about novelty-size boobs. How do you knit for that?

I, Slacker

I've guilted myself into posting tonight, even though I have little knitting news to report. It's Lucky's fault. That 62 inches of 1x1 rib is killing me, man. I pick it up (it's about 37 inches right now); I knit a few rows; I get antsy. And back it goes into its Ziploc bag for storage amongst the other knitting projects I've started but am not allowed to work on until I can do so wearing my finished yellow Lucky cardigan.

Do you feel my pain? If so, let me know...

On the bright side, this knitter's block is doing a great deal for my shopping life. I think I may have been to the mall a record four times in one week last week. Each time, I came home with something new, including five pair of shoes for Mr. Knitter. Yes, you heard that right. Five. Pair. Of black shoes. For $140. He's a deal shopper, my man, and such a girl sometimes (have I mentioned his treasured and lengthy bubble baths?), and I love it! He forbade me from mentioning the five-pair shopping spree, but I think my promise was negated when, less than a week later, he found his sixth pair ($10 Steve Madden black loafers at Famous Footwear). So, if you read this Mr. Knitter, I apologize.

At least I know I won't be sleeping in the doghouse tonight. It's full of black shoes.