Seven days to go, and today is the first day I felt a wave of the tiniest bit of panic sweep over me. I’ve had a couple of curve balls come my way (nothing bad, just the planets way of making raising the high bar I’m trying to leap by a couple of centimetres, but this weeks chores have turned into more of a panicked run than the persistent quick walk that I was sticking with. Still, nothing is on fire – so I’m trying to keep my head. (I came perilously close to a freakout when Joe announced last night that he’s working 10am -10pm for the next three days, but miraculously, I neither divorced nor killed him, but somehow managed to find something in my house that was simultaneous gratitude that I’m married to a hard worker, and absolutely nothing short of nauseating horror that I’m going to have to do all the shopping. I’ve decided not to make eye contact with the problem just yet.
The table of knitting to do looked like this yesterday:
And today there’s big changes.
The scarf is back, blocking complete, and the little red sweater now has not just a back, but a left front as well. The little cream sweater got the buttons sewn on, and there’s another few inches on one of the men’s socks. The baby hat made no progress, the nearly finished pair of socks are still nearly finished, but behold! The slippers are all sewn together and felted, and they just need buttons and a little bit of sewing. An hours work, no more.
Not only that, but Sam and I finished the gingerbread, a leviathan task around here.
There’s nothing in the kitchen that doesn’t have icing on it, but I’m overlooking that – well, that and about a million other things, but the time for careful consideration is past. It’s just me now, sprinting through random Christmas tasks with icing in my hair and tape stuck to my shirt right over my right nipple. (Didn’t notice that one until I got home. Blast it.)
Gifts for Knitters? I have no idea today. Get them a bottle of wine. When this is over they’re going to need it.