So, in all this time I haven’t been posting, or even making much of an appearance anywhere on the web, I’ve been pretty busy, in a still-not-getting-anything-accomplished way.

Packing. Ugh. Hell. Packing. I am the world’s slowest and most impossible packer. For one, I like everything to be… perfect. I want all similar items together, and packed just so… but that’s difficult, because I don’t have similar items except for genres of books. All of my stuff is like, random junk. I have to do mental gymnastics to coordinate stuff together to stick it in a box, and even though the Olympics are going on as we speak, I am not an Olympian at this. Not even close.

I’ve packed 14 boxes of books. And several boxes of random stuff. And that’s where it ends. Hooboy. I have sooo much more to go, but mostly, I sit there and stare at my stuff and pace and wish I could just snap my fingers and it’d all be done for me, perfect and as I want it. Sooo not happening. It’d be nice if magic worked like that, wouldn’t it?

I’ve also been knitting, some, but not much. Why not much? Because I signed up for Ravlympics, and… then I was knitting on one of my socks, and then… the sock… it was too small after I got past the heel. Fuck. I knew it. I knew it two inches in, but I persevered, thinking I was just being overly paranoid, like I was about the last sock I thought would be too small. And now, I’m halfway through a sock that’s too small to wear. Too small for anyone I know to wear. I have the smallest feet ever, or close to it. Rrfg. So now I’m faced with the task of ripping it out, which has put me off knitting somewhat, and I haven’t felt like doing the lace project I signed up to do, so…

Well, there you go. So I’m knitting mittens for a swap. They’re super fast, and almost done. I’m just waiting on confirmation of the hand measurements before I top them off, because… well, the girl I’m knitting for said her hands were about ‘average’ length, except, she gave me a measurement that’s smaller than MY hands, and I have hands the size of your average eleven year old. Sooo not average. So either she made a typo or a measuring error… or she just doesn’t know what average hands are. Either way, I want to be sure before I finish them.

I’ve also been reading. A., (whose website went under when she forgot to pay for her domain), lent me the first two books of Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series. Not bad. Good reading, not spectacular, but fun. The main character sort of drives me insane, because she is soooo an average idiot teenager, and I am sooo past that. Also, oddly, between her two romantic choices, for once, I don’t like the vampire best. Interesting, that. A., who always likes the vampire best, agrees with me. Edward just sort of… doesn’t have it going on. I mean, in the first book, when you don’t really have Option Two in play much, he’s all right, but his faults really stack up in the second book, if you ask me. Ah well. As I said, the main character is an idiot teenager, so her undying love for him is not surprising.

I’ve also been watching the Olympics at work. Tonight is my last night of work at this job, ever, and I guess I will just… not see any more Olympics after this. (I don’t, for the confused, have TV. I have a television, but no… service. Nada. Zilch. Zippo.) Fft. I never get to see the Olympics…

By the way, am I the only one who sort of wishes they’d do the Olympics like they did in ancient times: a.k.a. in the nude. Now that would really be worth watching!