I've made a concerted effort not to go batshit crazy. Why, you ask? Well, it would be a tad inconvenient, and Kenga wouldn't like it much. I don't really relish the role of Bertha Rochester (read Jane Eyre, if you dare- she's in the attic.). Batshit isn't becoming- unless there's a pile of money involved. And in our case, there just isn't.
So. Keepin busy. Scheduling all of the stuff that should be done over the course of a week, so the pressure to get it all done at once doesn't paralyze me. So that the guilt of not getting it done doesn't keep me awake at night. So the self-loathing of feeling inadequate and stupid doesn't eat me alive. All in good time.
And knitting again. Just like Madame Defarge. Sitting at the foot of the guillotine, knitting while the heads hit the basket. Just being careful to keep the blood off of the wool.
It's all good. Really.
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2 comments:
O_o You are SO going out with us tomorrow.
Good. The movie sounds fun, and you are my peeps. Like the little yellow and pink birds in a box at Easter. Peeps. With the little purple dots for eyes. Peeps.
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