No time for love, Docta Jones!

That Sesame cardigan I thought for sure was going to be done over a month ago certainly isn't. First, it was because I was tired of stockinette. "I'll just knit a couple of hats," I thought. And I did. But I still wasn't ready to go back. "Well... maybe I'll knit the Jellyfish shrug. That'll be quick." Oh, lordy, how wrong I was. Still working on it, actually.

Why too busy for knitting? It isn't for lack of desire, that's for sure. (I'm also behind on embroidered Giftmas presents. That's right. It's almost February.) But first I got a job for the month of December, and now, just when I'm unemployed enough to get my knit on again, the BF and I are moving in together.

Have you ever seen the movie The Money Pit? Well, me neither, but I've picked up enough of it on Comedy Central to say that it's a pretty good approximation of what we're going through with this new apartment. At first, we thought we got a deal. The landlord waived the security deposit because we agreed to paint the place. Why did the place need painting? Well... we've deducted all kinds of fun facts about the previous tenant from the clues and detritus she left behind. Like that jet black wall in the living room, facing a blood red wall. Or the delightful sponge painting in the bedroom and bathroom. Or the crust of dried catfood under the refrigerator and yellow nicotine stains on the kitchen ceiling. And the neon pink drape in the bedroom. Are you drawing the same conclusions? That this girl was thirty, obsessed with Vampire the masquerade, smoked (probably) Virginia Slims like a chimney whilst heating her sad meals in the crusty oven and stroking her seven adopted cats? We hate her.

So that's the current craft project. And it's going.... fairly well. Two coats of primer and a topcoat later, the living room is no longer black in the least, and is instead a cheery yellow. The bedroom no longer looks like the beige fairy got sick all over it, and is a pale blue. The fist sized holes in the drywall are filled with Spackle, the ceiling in the kitchen is relatively white again, and the boyfriend and I haven't even had a screaming match. (Although tempers were running high for a couple of days there.) Still. If you're ever in this situation, pay the effing security deposit.

Soon there will be a new hat pattern here for your perusal, probably just in time for spring. And someday, I will knit again.