I Got Nothin'

So Blogger doesn't want to upload photos again.

Fine.

Let's pretend that this is where a picture of the front & back of my 1940's pullover is. See? Nice.

This is where the picture of half a sleeve would go.

This is a picture of my cat. Isn't he cute? He's fricken' adorable.

This is where I could put a gallery of photos of ex-boyfriends with their heads ripped off.

This is where an Olympic button would have gone, had I finished my pullover.

This is one of me packing boxes, since I'll be moving in exactly 12 days. In the two weeks since I last mentioned my crackhead neighbors they've broken up, made up (rather loudly) and broken up again about seventeen times. Right now I can't tell whether they're fighting or they're at it like rabbits. Get me out of this luxury five-story hell hole please*.

Now I get to go on and on with all sorts of spiffy excuses for not finishing. Let's blame school. I've wrecked my right arm in metalsmithing class. Damn metalsmithing class. Kate has suggested that it wasn't specified just which Olympics we should finish these things in so we all have another couple years, depending on whether we decide on Summer or Winter Olympics. She's thinking Vancouver 2010. I could quite possibly have this sweater done by Beijing 2008. I mean it's just a sleeve & a half to go. And sewing it up. I always forget to factor in the sewing-up time. That should tack on another year or so.

I'm just going to say that in the fine tradition of Team Angstylvania that I just couldn't be bothered to finish that sleeve. Yeah! So there! I was all wrapped up in angst and ennui and some other dreary stuff that I couldn't be bothered. That's the ticket.

No, really, I thought I could have finished if I hadn't wasted so much time on those two acursed waistbands.

Gimme another week and I'll have it done--it's just a sleeve & a half. Unless I'm packing boxes. This could be the perfect project for when I'm waiting at the new place for the cable guy to turn up.

*Incidently, "Get me out of this hell hole" was what Frank Sinatra said when he came to my fair city & passed out on stage. He caught the spirit of this place quite nicely I thought.