A bit of how the morning went:

Four fuzzy kittens jumping on the bed, Sprocket fell off and bumped his head. Bryan woke up angry and this is what he said: "No more kittens jumping on the bed!" Repeat several times.

Last Sunday I ordered glasses and had them put a "rush" order on them, because my backup pair was eaten by Steve. I'm using my backup backup pair, which are at least four years old and are now coming apart because they are rimless and held together by the nose piece. They've been making my eyes very sore and tired because the prescription is so off. The new spectaclese are not in yet, which makes me question the whole "rush" thing, but it's not like I paid any extra. Bryan and I picked out these frames in record time thanks to a new system I put in place--I try on a pair, we laugh and try to guess who I look like in that particular pair, than I try on another. I put the frames I liked least back in their spot and repeated until I found a combination of flattering and affordable that was acceptable. I tried to go for a different style this time---the half rims---thinking that the lack of a lower rim would make my cheeks seem less full. Unfortunately, I think the lens hanging over my face like that with no frame to break it up seemed to actually magnify things in a rather alarming manner, so after trying that style in varying sizes and widths, I ended up buying something almost exactly like my last pair, only a little smaller and of a lighter shade of silver. I though for sure that going with more oversized frames would dwarf my face by comparison, but apparently I need to buy glasses like I buy pants. Either they must fit perfectly or be clownishly oversized, because anything too small or only slightly too big will make you look lumpy and bizarre.

So we'll see. They're supposed to come in today, and my eyes will be happy again.

Last night I finished the back of the pink sweater, and I don't want to hear any laughing from Jeli about my hilarious "I'll have a new sweater by Thanksgiving!" statement. We all know I'm delusional and incapable of planning. I cast on the front late last night after working on Rich's Browns hat. I am ready to do the decreases and the stripe today, and then I will knit this for myself.

I walk into work all decked out in various hats/scarves/mittens that I find around the house, and my co-worker Chris always comes up and grabs my hat, or the hem of my sweater and asks "did you make this?" And I laugh. I am a knitter with no handknits for herself. Well---not totally true. I have two pairs of socks. I could use more, because these crappy cotton blend kind you get in the jumbo bag at Target suck and are not nearly cozy enough for wood floors. Maybe I could quit my job and just knit full time. Although, how would I afford wool? I'd have to sell my body or something. So I'd probably have to get in shape, spray tan or invest in implants or something. Eh, piss on that. I will continue to be bony, pasty white and work at a desk job until I can blackmail one of my co-workers or something I can earn the money in a responsible and healthy manner.

Should I put up the Christmas tree? Would cats hanging off the branches count as "ornamentation?"