Redecorating

I wish it was as easy to do this to my house.  Obviously, I've too much time on my hands.  Hey, shouldn't I be knitting or something?  Well, I was and now I'm not.  I did receive the socks in progress from Pixiedust.  I know, I'm shocked too.   I was amazed that I got them since she has been so silent and that sort of worried me.

I was having a cup of coffee with my daughter when she heard a knock on the door.  Duke and I heard nothing (you'll notice Jezebel isn't mentioned much and we'll talk about that another day; suffice it to say that we drew the line at the destroyed living room furniture.)  Damn, Duke and I are both getting old.  We went to the door together with Miss S. preceding me saying "oh, oh, this can't be good."  I'm sure the postal carrier thought we were nuts (OK, just me) because I said, "I know I'm dead.  She finally killed me."  For someone who's been begging to die, I was starting to feel regret.  I think my daughter was laughing at me.  I told him I was expecting a pair of socks that would kill me and then I asked where the package was from.  Whew.  Not the Pacific Northwest; Wisconsin.  He looked at me like I was nuts.  Isn't he the one wearing the postal uniform? He couldn't get off my porch quick enough.  I think he was worried the package would explode or something. 

Pixie sent the most beautiful yarn with an explanation that her father was quite ill and she had health issues too.  I'll admit, I feel a tad guilty for riding her so hard.  I don't feel horrific about it since she got a complete and lovely pair of socks out of the deal.   Almost nothing was done which is what I had feared the most-just a cuff and maybe 4 pattern repeats (her increases were the correct ones.)  I was taken aback by the beauty of this yarn; so much so that when I started taking it off the stitch holders and putting it on my needles, I didn't notice that the stitch count didn't match the pattern instructions.  It was a 9 stitch repeat but was a whole repeat short. There were only 63 of the required 72 stitches and I had to start the whole shebang from scratch or face automatic disqualification if I finished them like that. S#!t.  So that's where I am, a meager 16 rows in and miles to go, or so it seems.  As a defense mechanism, I redecorated my blog and spent a bit of time writing.

In other news, my assassin is pushing up daisies in her lovely new socks.  She told me she was a sock and about a half in when she snail-mailed my socks to Florida and my new assassin.  Now if Patty truly liked me, she'd have sent the package by pack mule (never trust an assassin.)  No stinkin' way I'll finish these now.  Florida's assassin lives in Toronto and was killed last week by my friend Rositta.  Rositta died today although I think her ghost survives because she's been going at it with one of the more mouthy vocal people on the Sock Wars forum.  Get her good my friend.  Rositta never got the socks that her victim Rowan was knitting to kill Patty's assassin and now Rositta's assassin is barking for the socks Rowan hasn't sent.

Do you see why I've started drinking?  You need to be in an altered state to follow it all and since it seems I am, I'll explain why I'm dying soon.  Rowan never really started the socks.  Rositta is not in possession of the socks Rowan never knit and obviously never sent.  Rositta, had she been sent those socks, would be fast enough to have killed Florida but died waiting instead.  It's up to my friend's assassin to kill Florida with Rowan's yarn/socks.  Now nobody knows (except Rowan) where that yarn is.  Florida will most certainly kill me while Rositta's assassin stews. 

 I need a score card.  And a padded cell.