I’ve done sufficient housework today to approach the tearful stage. This is something I generally try to avoid – if I must clean then I prefer it in very small doses with plenty of creative breaks to alleviate the stress. However, Mr L remains hard at work in the porch, doing a job that he is hating, so I must show solidarity and exhibit progress with some drudgery myself.
Teddy is complaining bitterly, he is a cat who despises change.
It is paying off. Frankly the sight of a clear expanse of worktop is sufficiently cheering to keep the housework frustration tears at bay. I made enough progress to be able to start some blocking. Yes, I finally have some knitting stretched out in the space that I have made.
I can even see the floor appearing and have just wielded the Dyson in its general direction. Go, me. But enough for one day. I need some fun now.
It is the cashmere cowl that is blocking. Cashmere does not behave like wool and does not block out properly. That being so, I settled for a rush job. I’ve washed it and I have pinned it out roughly. Some readers will recall that I knit this from oddments of yarn and intended it for wearing in the house and not to be seen or admired. I did not add the lace edging to this Rivington Cowl even though I enjoyed edging my first version. All in all it seems that a rough and ready shaping is appropriate to this project.
I’m pleased that I got his far or I should have felt terrible about having asked for my wires back. Even if I did not use them today I do know that I shall use them tomorrow when I pin out the “Pavonated” Curl. Blocking the previous Curl was an interesting experience and I am looking forward to this one.
After the Curl I think I may tackle a shawl that I made an exceeding long time ago. I just looked on Ravelry and find that I finished the knitting over five years ago. Why is it not blocked? Well, I think I just forgot its existence.
I shall be needing many, many pins – – and a bit more space than the utility room offers. I’m thinking that walk-around island bed in the RV is a very good space for blocking… a very good one indeed!
Next project up after the Ruffled Fichu will be a hooded scarf that requires blocking before piecing together, then I need to wash and pin out the Colinette throw, and finally, if I can get my act together on the underarm grafting, the Warriston smock will want a wash and shaping.
It seems odd to me that I can face all of this pernicketty pinning out with aplomb and yet a few hours cleaning and tidying makes me weep with frustration. What is it about housework that distresses me so? I used to clean house for other people in order to keep body and soul together and I managed that, four hours at a time. Perhaps it is that simple – perhaps it was those experiences that taught me to hate housework – I transferred subconsciously perhaps that housework itself is demeaning and degrading.
Sometimes I stop to think that it would be nice to have enough money to pay somebody to clean up after me but I know in my heart that I could never do that to another Human being. There is not enough money in the world to pay a person to pick up somebody else’s dirty washing.
I am 13 programmes behind on the Chelsea Flower Show but now have some working earphones, so I think I’ll kick back, drink wine and look at the bonny flowers for a while. I’ve earned it.
Oh, question: anybody have experience with elderly cats and maintaining their weight? We are feeding Teddy 4 pouches a day of a “Senior” food and supplementing with Cod Liver Oil. He is still dropping weight. We’ve added kitty milk, which he adores, back into the mix today (having formerly withdrawn it due to Ted upsetting his stomach by being over greedy with the milk) and hope this will help him to flesh out a bit. I think I may give him the odd egg too but don’t want to overdo it. Anyone here able to advise? He’s been blood tested and has no diagnosed problems, Th levels are fine for his age. In fact the vet says Teddy is in good shape for his age (16) but we don’t like to see him looking like a bag of bones.
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