Mysteriously and in ways that are totally remote from natural experience, the gray drizzle of horror induced by depression takes on the quality of physical pain.
William Styron
I don’t know what happened while I slept last night. I don’t really care. I just want it to stop. It was all I could do to get out of bed this morning when my Mum knocked. She dragged me about town on errands, and we finally came home when I was too exhausted to stay upright any longer. The lethargia is… I don’t even have a word for it, really.
I couldn’t knit today. I definitely couldn’t spin. I count it a major achievement that I folded some laundry and knit 4 rows on my clapotis.
I feel like someone came in during the night and filled my bones with lead.
I did try to work on everyone’s Christmas gifts and made little progress. I can’t find the supplies for TheBon’s gift. I decided to change projects midstream for St M and have maybe an 1/8 done. Tamara’s and Maura’s yarns still aren’t dry yet. I haven’t had a chance to dye Crimson’s.
It doesn’t help matters that I was planning to ship everything out tomorrow, and the gifts/ prizes for everyone in town needs to be done by Sunday. Neither are likely to happen.
Here’s something that cheers me up a bit:
Tomorrow, Mum and I have to cook for the Channukah potluck. I didn’t realise it would be so early, so I had to cancel my plans with Bon. Which just sucks. Right now, I don’t want to cook for these people.
There’s something I keep forgetting to mention. D’s gansey is being reblocked in the sewing room right now. Don’t get me started on Lamb’s Pride Cotton Fleece. Yes, I admit that I forgot that I was supposed to add water to the washwater. That really shouldn’t be a problem. Dye should not run that much. That just pisses me off how much the dye ran.
And then pooled.
I washed it again and got most of it out. It still pooled (a little less noticeably) this time. Maybe a third time will be the charm. If not, I’m sending it as-is. It’s for a six-year-old. FVck it. It’s going to be destroyed anyway.
