Good news from Athens. They had David out of bed yesterday, tottering about supported by orderlies. The hope is that he might get home on Monday. He is in a fair amount of pain – a bit stingy with the morphine, perhaps?
So now I can move on to worrying about sepsis.
Yesterday was stressful, and my feelings of panic were bad. Getting those heavy boxes down the icy steps and across the icy pavement, to begin with. The plumber's visit. Then my husband had an unexpected and unexplained low-blood-sugar crisis at lunch time. He was snatched back from the brink without medical help, but it was a close one which left me nearly prostrate.
I am supposed to go for a walk with our niece tomorrow. I doubt my own strength somewhat, and the weather is unappealing, and I worry about leaving my husband for so long. But I could do with a walk. I've found a nice easy-sounding one in the book, involving a river and a ruined castle. We shall see.
But we're meant to be talking about knitting.
I've got to get photography going again – you need to see Archie's sweater. There are now only three decrease rounds to go in the first sleeve – and the stitch count is still right. I haven't measured yet to see how much more there will be to do, once the decreases are finished. Not far, I think.
And today's resolution is to ring up Loop and consult them about yarn for the Pocket Squares, which were completely forgotten in yesterday's excitements. I am seriously tempted by the link you sent, Hat, for beautiful pure silk yarn. But linen is an interesting alternative idea. I should at least ask. At least I won't – I hope – be responsible for folding them. I think you're right, that madelinetosh pashmina would be a tad too heavy.
And I must, at least mentally, pencil in the finishing and blocking of the Unst Bridal Shawl.
I think I've mentioned our New Yorker problem: we used to reserve them for reading in Strathardle, no newspapers, no television. A back-log has accumulated, now that I refuse to go without support. I try to read the current issue as it arrives, and also to chip away at the pile. This process finds me, at the moment, reading Joan Acocella's article about hoarding, in the December 15 issue. “Hoarding”, of course, = “stash-acquisition”, to a knitter.
And it's not quite the same thing. We buy hoping to knit, meaning to knit – but life rushes on, and it's too short. Do I have an inventory of what I bought in Jamieson & Smith that day, now a year and a half ago? I've done the Unst Bridal Shawl – more yarn had to be ordered. I am endlessly about to do the Fair Isle vest. I have cast on the Northmavine Hap. I have finished the Rams&Yowes blankie, Kate Davies' 80th birthday present to me. I think that's everything. A lot of conscientious knitting, but the end result (so far) is Stash Augmentation.
The thrust of the New Yorker article seems to be that hoarding has been promoted to the status of a Recognised Psychiatric Disorder. Maybe I will have some further knit-related thoughts when I have finished reading it.