Not much knitting has been going chez Pipsqueak this week. The So-Called Scarf is going at a rate of knots - about six rows a night while I watch the Ten O’clock News before throwing up my hands in horror and grumping off to bed, while the Picovoli fell by the wayside for a bit when I realised I would have to rip and rewash my swatch (Cathay takes a long time to dry). Plus, it's still unremittingly purple.
The lack of knitting seems to go with a general state of agitation, but has meant I've got round to a few of the things I've been meaning to do for ages. I came up with some kind of solution for my inexpertly wound centre-pull balls,
fixed my sewing machine, and put my books in alphabetical order.
(Yes, this may not seem a high priority to many people. It's made me feel a lot calmer every time I look at my shelves, and I know where things are now).
I've also spent an inordinate amount of time looking at wooden boxes on eBay.
What was it Parikha said about lacking inspiration?