I frogged the Lopi Einstein this morning, and I'm glad I did. Any lingering "Oh, maybe I should finish it anyway..." thoughts were swept away by the clouds of hair and fuzz and general crap that fell all over me as I frogged - it knew it was being destroyed and took revenge. I had enough sense to do it while in my pajamas, before showering and getting ready for work, and when I was done I had to employ the sticky lint roller to clean myself, the couch, the cat sleeping on the couch - everything in the vicinity was coated in Lopi fuzz and Lopi hair. And this yarn is famous WHY? So now I have a bag full of disgusting yarn I'll never use, and I'd honestly feel guilty sending it to a knitting charity. I think I'll give it to Goodwill - half the skeins still have labels on them and the buyer can feel it in all its coarse nastiness, caveat emptor.

But of course a cold snap is hitting this weekend, I still don't have the nice cozy heavy sweater coat I've been talking about for two years, and once again it's so late in the season by the time I finished one it'll be spring again. Arrrgh. The shoemaker's children go barefoot, and the knitter never has the damn sweater she wants.

So, no perfect big scrunchy warm dog-walking cardigan. Christmas decorations remain piled in the corner of the disgustingly messy garage. Advent wreath is among them, I think, somewhere.... Cat hair runs amok. Speaking of cats, I need to question the cats, because somebody missed the litterbox by a good foot today - there's a Christmas Present on the garage floor. I am waiting until it is less, uh, fresh, before addressing it. These are normally impeccably clean cats, I can only think that there was a run on the litterboxes, two large boxes for three large cats, and cat three was the last one in line and couldn't wait for the facilities to become available. Nothing like walking out there to put out the trash and..."Oh, shit" is not just a figure of speech.

Number of Christmas presents purchased - 4, and those are for the church gift drive for the migrant workers' kids, which I have to remember to wrap and bring to the Vigil Saturday. (The gifts, not the children. Can you believe I once got them there honors in English?) I need to get it in gear, obviously. But I'd rather spend my time in pursuit of the perfect yarn for the big scrunchy cardigan (hereinafter "the Holy Grail Sweater.") At least until it's time to address the Surprise in the garage.