Sweaty and Cranky

It's been a balmy 98 degrees this weekend and I could wring a gallon of water out of the air if I wanted to. Maybe not, but it sounds good anyhow. It's been that weird kinda weather where thunder rumbles every day and the air is oppressive and sticky but there isn't any rain unless you're carrying three bags of groceries home, then it rains like hell.

I had this idea a couple of months ago that I was going to sew or knit up some nice summer stuff and last week I came to the conclusion that I hate summer so therefor I hate the clothes that go with it. I haven't made jack diddley, though I have wasted endless hours looking at my patterns and matching up the appropriate fabric to go with them, but I haven't gotten further than that. I did replace the underarm gussets of an 1880s chemise which could be considered summer wear if one was into wearing a short white circus tent out in the street but that's been about it. I decided that I prefer colder weather when I can wear layers of stuff so I dragged out a corset pattern, a bustle skirt, and a couple for long sleeved tops. The 1890s chemise could wind up under all that.

I've recently been obsessed with re-starting that corset pullover I was knitting a while back before I ran out of eBay mystery yarn. You know, the pullover I'm too lazy to find the link to right now. Yeah, that one. Next time I buy cones of yarn on eBay I should make sure I don't have to double the stuff up to even use it.

I also gave up on brushing all the superfluous fur out of the cat and bought him a fine-toothed comb. So far this week I've combed out half a quart zip-lock bag of matted pale orange fluff from the little beastie's belly. I believe I'll spin it up into filthy cat-yarn and knit something offensive with it. He's never been this fluffy before in his entire life; I'm guessing that he's now dedicated the past few months to converting Fancy Feast into gobs of downy fluff which he then uses to coat every surface in my apartment. He normally spends his summers licking himself quite bald, but since someone secretly replaces him every five years or so I believe they've given me something part bunny this time. Evil bastards.

Thursday on the way home from work the car I was riding in got into an accident. One minute we're merrily tooling along, then the next there's a white van hurling itself into our lane, we slam into the side of it, the windshield shatters and everything goes blurry. It took me a couple seconds to realize why everything had gone all blurry--my eyeglasses were hanging off one ear. My co-worker hit her head on the windshield and I've got a lovely bruise across the shoulder & chest from the seatbelt which the cat spent this morning stomping back and forth across. The minor whiplash was gone by Sunday morning. I guess we were both a tad whiny on Friday at work so we didn't have to come in on Saturday.

I thought that was a good enough excuse to spend the weekend making a stab at crocheting a fancy-ass fin-de-siecle beaded purse and snuggling up to a few Sam Adams. Dammit.