Late-season knitting

Often when spring hits I lose all desire to knit. But this time - perhaps because the weather continues to be intermittently cool, especially after the sun drops down - I am experiencing a late-season surge in knitting.

In a small way, of course. I haven't been working on my sweaters-in-progress or anything, but the legwarmers are done, and I am already working on another small project.

I am digging the two-circs method, and as soon as I get around to buying some size 1s or 0s I can start those momentous First Sox. (Already have plenty of sock yarn, natch.)

I had a big, long, rather fraught day, the details of which I will not go into, except to say that I tried and failed to fix part of my bike using a bolt and a can of Guinness. Just the can; the Guinness I drank last night in preparation.

I'd planned a triumphant and hilarious play-by-play of my amazing McGyverlike powers, but alas, 'twas not to be. That's okay. It would have pegged the sillyometer right off scale (not that that is a bad thing).

So now I am enduring the horrible ads for those egregious videos of college girls disrobing in assorted drunken stupors, which is pretty much what the Spike channel advertises at this hour, again and again. Geez. What a girl has to do to watch a little Star Trek.

In other news, I was totally suckered into ordering some "Imps" from here, and I am excitedly awaiting their arrival. It will be a while; apparently they have a backlog. Probably Juno's fault; she writes so eloquently about perfume that I can't imagine anyone not being drawn under her spell.

Then again, the names of their scents are enough to lure anyone with half an imagination. Carnal. Cheshire Cat. Forbidden Fruit. Libertine. Dragon's Blood. Venice. Lightning. Delirium. Ophelia. I mean, c'mon!