I barely moved from the spot you see before you all weekend. And although my legs went past the numb and into the “bitch please, are you trying to kill me?” stage, I stayed. I had entered the Crochet Cave of Gloriousness and there’s no real coming back from that.
It rained. A lot. Both days. It was cold and miserable. On Saturday, against my Extreme Homebody Oh Look It’s Raining I Can’t Possibly Go Anywhere Now tendencies, I went to the Frankie Magazine Garage Sale where I chatted with my good friend Pip (and felt a lot better about a lot of things for it), was jealous that someone got to a Depeche Mode record before I did, talked about Tokyo a lot, and bought one of Beci Orpin’s prints.
Once I got home though, the girls and their dad went to an indoor trampoline place and I sat down to finish off a doll dress for the girls …. and I didn’t stop. For two days I sat in that spot, binge watched Gilmore Girls and Broadchurch, and powered through four dresses, a doll bonnet, and the beginnings of my Roseanne Afghan. I drank tea there, I drank wine there, I ate a lot of licorice bullets there.
AND IT WAS FANTASTIC.