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Observation: most people (including me) don't choose their words very carefully anymore. Or we try to use long words without understanding their exact nuances.
I'm fine. Not doing anything exotic except knitting the toe on a sock. Last night I had to change my shirt THREE TIMES because I kept spilling things on myself! & I have a favorite pair of yoga pants that have undergone a massive, time-consuming stain-removal process for the past five days or so, because I got something on them that can only be removed with oil, so I had to rub some oil into them to try to remove the original stain, and ended up with TWO stains as a result. Enough to make a girl want to cry.
My Medieval Folklore book came today (Amazon, used, ordered a few weeks back). Oh, happy day. It's very interesting. When I am feeling insomniacal, I read this book that I found for a few dollars last month: Home Comforts. I'd always wanted a copy but never wanted to pay for it (something like $30+). It is total porn for anal-retentive neat freaks. Which I aspire to be, but thus far I am too "creative" (read: messy, sentimental, packratty). Little illustrations on how to fold your laundry; detailed discussions of the pros and cons of using various detergents; more details than you ever needed regarding the care and feeding of floors; etc. It's also so deadly boring that it usually sends me to sleep within two pages.
I'm fine. Not doing anything exotic except knitting the toe on a sock. Last night I had to change my shirt THREE TIMES because I kept spilling things on myself! & I have a favorite pair of yoga pants that have undergone a massive, time-consuming stain-removal process for the past five days or so, because I got something on them that can only be removed with oil, so I had to rub some oil into them to try to remove the original stain, and ended up with TWO stains as a result. Enough to make a girl want to cry.
My Medieval Folklore book came today (Amazon, used, ordered a few weeks back). Oh, happy day. It's very interesting. When I am feeling insomniacal, I read this book that I found for a few dollars last month: Home Comforts. I'd always wanted a copy but never wanted to pay for it (something like $30+). It is total porn for anal-retentive neat freaks. Which I aspire to be, but thus far I am too "creative" (read: messy, sentimental, packratty). Little illustrations on how to fold your laundry; detailed discussions of the pros and cons of using various detergents; more details than you ever needed regarding the care and feeding of floors; etc. It's also so deadly boring that it usually sends me to sleep within two pages.
