Reward for Safe Return.

Okay, so I’m reading my last post, you know, doing that post-post analysis* that some bloggers are wont to do, and suddenly someone is clutching my breastessess, in utter mortification.

Uhh, before you grab that cocktail and sit down in titillating anticipation, forget about it. I clutch myself.

So, what, exactly is the source of the breast-clutching horror?
It seems I’ve lost my whimsy. My irrelevance. For, in that last post, ::I can hardly say this, I’m tellin’ ya:: I actually and quite seriously describe the contents of my new cabinet drawers.

As though this is interesting. Life altering, even.

As though people clicked out of this ol’ swine hole thinking “Wow, I’ll have to try that drawer thing. Now, how did that go again?”

As though, after reading my post, the ol’ knitblogger IM’s were firing up… "have you seen what Marcy did with her drawers?” And the word spread, like a cyber version of the opening scene of Bye, Bye Birdie.

Yeah. Exactly. So, let's just stick the rotisserie pole up my ass, right now, grab some sauce and fire up the grill.

How did this happen, exactly? How did Pig lose her Whimsy? Well, I think I know.

Remember that Bible story about Samsonite? The guy who disobeyed God by cutting his hair, then lost all his luggage while on vacation? He said it was just a mix-up, during a layover at the camel-stop. But we know what really happened: He cut his hair and lost his mojo. Then his world came crashing ‘round him.

You see, I’m afraid that the act of cleaning up my sty took away my mojo. My whimsy. Clean and organized goes against the very nature of my inner beast. And now I’m paying a terrible price, through the loss of interesting thoughts and words.

However, harken thee and be ye not afraid! The force of nature has my backside. For every act of cleanliness, there is a is a direct and opposing act of filth. And, like the growing out of a Wrath-of-God-Inducing haircut (And we've all had one.), we just need to give it some time.

Meanwhile, I’m up at the cottage, for the last hurrah of summer. And it’s raining. Which is a beautiful thing, today.

Knitting a Knomaly
I am currently working on a secret project, using some yarn I found during my cleaning binge. The yarn is some really weird, irritating, vintage shit, purchased during my Ebay period. It’s very strange. As you can see:



Even though it's strange, it's quite simple to describe: Two strands of silky dental floss, with a strand of Brillo pad, and the occasional embalmed fly carcass.

I’m using it with another Ebay purchase yarnomaly, to make a party shawl.

The results, so far, are pretty cool, but not very photogenic. So, I’m on a wait-and-see-how-it-goes-before-posting-picture plan. I’d hate to wind up the poster-child-knit-of-the-week of a snarky WTF knitblog post. Well, hate is a strong word…and any publicity, good or bad, is all good, right….?

Nope. Not ready.

But I’ll be sure to keep you posted.
In the mean time, I’ll just be up here, buggin’. In the rain.

*Ever notice the anal in analysis? Coincidence? Afreud not.

Labels: Deep Shit