The next time someone asks me "Do you own a yarn shop?" I'll reply: "Nope. Couldn't deal with inventory."
Spent yesterday gainfully employed from sunup to sundown counting skeins of yarn, needlepoint yarn, canvasses… generally aiding and abetting the gruelling process of ripping a perfectly beautiful yarn store apart and trying to put it back together again in a day.
When it looked like we had things enough under control that I could come home on the last bus, I called Boyhood with the good news … only to get a subdued, not to say mixed, response.
Was he planning a night out on the town with the boys?
Wild pool party with nubile young maidens?
Or even a wee game of poker?
You see, he thought he had a day and a half to get a house project done, one that we've been sketching and planning for a few weeks.
So my homecoming was met with a cascading series of events, that has to start in the living room.
Q: Karen, do you always deposit vast piles of clean laundry on your dining table?
Erm… yes, but that's not why it's there right now. You see, I needed the dryer this morning …
Q: Why the sudden rush on the large appliances?
To wash the cushions to the sleeper couch.
Q: Really? The sleeper couch?
Yeah, you see we got coffee on it this morning …
Q: You slept on your own sleeper couch last night?
Well, yeah - we kind of had to, on account of the mess in the bedroom…
Q: Why on earth would you throw all the clothes you own onto the bed?
It was the closet, you see…
Q: The closet? It was offending you in some way?
Not as such … but we thought it could be so much more*…
Closets not living up to their potential…
Report at eleven.
* This is what happens when you live with a contractor/retired cabinetmaker.
Kids, don't try this at home.