Postcards from the Couch

It's been one of those days in which you should probably never blog because you know you're so snippy or grouchy or what have you that you know anything you say will go out into the universe uncensored and come back to bite you sometime in the future.

You ask why?  Because at around 3 this morning I woke up in dreadful pain completely unable to move.  Evidently I wrenched my neck, and so have spent the entire day barely able to move my head.  I should probably go soak it in the bath, but I find baths dreadfully boring.  And I'm not a fan of candles either, so all those tv shows and movies in which the female protagonist enjoys a nice soak with a good book are just lost on me.  If I'm going to enjoy a glass of wine and a good book it's not going to be where the pages can get water-stained or I can risk being drowned by an angry ghost or water demon.

So rather than a bath I'm sitting stiff and unmoving on the couch watching Breakfast at Tiffanys on Netflix.  A little Audry always soothes the soul.  Though I doubt I'll be trying to climb out a window any time soon.

And there is knitting of course.  I keep wanting to cast on more and more, but I did finish a sock yesterday.  I then declared myself the Kitchener Stitch Master and decided that this was the career for me.  I was born to kitchener stitch.

I'd apologize for the bad quality of this photo of sock #2, but I rather like it.  The color is pretty accurate and it blacks out all the background, namely the pile of trash that really must be taken out.  I was going to do so today . . .

Ah, well, another time perhaps... As long as the trash doesn't rise up and try to take over the apartment.