I’ve been much busier than usual as of late.
And by “much busier than usual”, I mean “I work more than one day a week and am therefore required to wear real pants.”
My partner went away for the weekend, and I was forced to entertain myself for about 28 hours. Unfathomable, isn’t it?
I went to work last night and came home reeking of restaurant. This morning (because of the time change) I woke up an hour earlier (I love DST) and cleaned all the things. I normally get up and clean things, but I was in an exceptionally good mood because I know I’m going to see my partner tonight.
I’m busy in the evenings, but my partner gets up really early and comes home exactly when I’m leaving. And I miss him. He misses me too. It’s crummy, but it feels like we’ve just met again. I almost had forgotten how funny and smart he is, or how handsome he is.
He’s headed home now, and I’m making dinner. I’m hoping for a garlicky oniony beany stir fry thing.
I’ve also been knitting mittens for a houseless man in my neighborhood named Greg. He’s 61 years old, and has been without a house for over 25 years.
I was going to use my Superfine Alpaca from Estelle, but then I thought about it and I figure that a 61 year old man isn’t going to want to wear a green that, well, feminine. So I’m using the Ultra Wool, and I’m thinking about putting green Superfine Alpaca stripes. Alpaca is so warm and soft, it’d be perfect for cold nights.
the start of Greg's mittens
I just can’t understand why this man has been without a home for so long. He doesn’t drink or smoke, he’s sociable, and he’s just a very sweet person. Obviously, being without a home and without much companionship makes it hard to stay… I don’t know how to say it. I guess cohesive? Practice makes perfect with most things, and conversation is one of those things. I’ll leave it at that.
He just impresses on me the importance of keeping your friends close; you’ll never know when you’ll fall and need some help getting back up again.
But then again, as I was walking to the grocery store this afternoon, I saw a young woman take a picture of a squirrel that had been hit by a car. Another young woman was absolutely disgusted, and the aspiring photographer was laughing at this reaction. I don’t understand that interaction, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Yes, the afternoon sunlight can make most colours blaze, and yes, death is a fascinating thing, and yes, it’s incredible how man-made things can destroy what used to be alive in an instant, but what’s artistic about taking a picture of some poor animal that isn’t alive anymore? It’s also not the most original idea. Seriously. And one more for the road. Is there a sanctity to the lives of squirrels that we would otherwise disregard? Or maybe they were both missing the point of either being fascinated or sanctimonious, because, after all, Greg usually sleeps on a park bench immediately across from where that unfortunate squirrel died. I think that someone should do more art for and about these disenfranchised people. And that more people should be up in arms for their rights.
And in a final note, here’s my third skein of handspun! I’m kind of proud of myself. It kind of looks like real yarn.