The day I have the desire to get home and begin working with an unbridled fervor on all of those projects left unfinished I end up wandering around my father’s business without a hook or a ball of yarn to occupy myself.
I can feel the minutes grinding away. Facebook has been checked, Ravelry has been raided, and I’ve watched all the John Olliver snippets I think I can stand. Now I have a dusting of small red bumps all over my leg that itch and appear to have an unseen cause. I have also just discovered a patch of possible magenta ink dust on one of my favorite shirts.
The universe apparently doesn’t want me to draft that sleeve pattern, make a delicious pot of soondubu jjigae just in time for the dude to get home, or have a shirt that compliments my shape.
Give me your misery friends. Mine is in desperate need of company.