may i whine?

I'm siiiick. Poor poor pitiful me. I have, like, the worst cold EVER. I'm feeling very, very sorry for my poor self. Haven't felt like knitting, reading, trying to catch up on Oscar contenders (not that I usually bother, but this year I've had the opportunity). I've just been sitting around, starting into space, moaning pitifully.

Now on to some cheerful knitting-related talk that will hopefully speed up my recovery.

I see the Spinrite winter sale starts tomorrow. I'd love to go but I doubt that we'll get an opportunity. It's possible that we might be able to squeeze in a trip next Saturday. But then where would I hide the booty? My haul from the August sale is still in the garbage bag it rode home in because I'm out of room in the Rubbermaid boxes. Some would see that as a sign that I don't need to shop at all, but such people just don't understand us.

I have decided to give up on my little fantasy of completing some more charity projects in time for the next meeting. I could theoretically complete one baby sweater that I started before the plague struck but I'm not going to push for it. My chullo hat still sits neglected in need of tassels and a billion ends weaving in. I might just wait for a visit from the Finishing Fairy and start something new. My inner knitter needs resuscitation.