So, today it's supposed to be 55 degrees in Chicago. Three days ago it was, like, zero. I'm completely happy for the warm front but I just don't know how to feel about it. I mean, these erratic swings toy with my emotions and my habits. I feel like a heat addict, by turns on the wagon and bingeing. This can't be good for people.
On the other hand, it's pretty sweet to have fifties in February!
Clapotis marches on. I'm deep into the decreases now. It's quite energizing the way this pattern speeds up the at the end after such a long, steady build up. I'm sprinting for the finish. But it's easier than that. It's more like the luge, just speeding along on my tiny sled. Except, you know, it's knitting and, well, this metaphor is totally disintegrating now.
On Wednesday, the E and I went to storytime at the library with Mary and some other friends. Afterwards, we went to Wishbone for post-story refreshments. E was like a demolition expert at the table, wrecking whatever he could reach. But he was calmed by the sweet potatoes, so it was all good. I'm having a little blog envy of Mary. She blogs like 5 times a week. I'm pretty sure she has a secret live-in nanny that she's not telling anyone about because where else could she find the time? Of course, maybe she doesn't squander her precious free time searching Ravelry. I mean, I don't know anyone who does that, but just as a theoretical example of how someone might waste time and not get anything done. Someone I don't know. Clearly.