I'm knitting. Honest. But there has been a lack of enthusiasm. A reduction in mojo if you will. To top it all off, I had a near catastrophe involving a sweater freshly off the blocking table and a bottle of red ink. You may want to sit down for this.
I constructed a plain vanilla cardigan in charcoal grey. Nothing to blog about, nothing to get up about. I finished it and said to self, "eh." (if you check back a blog or two this is the same grey that was frogged for being unloved.) I put said sweater in the soak, gave it a spin in the washer, laid it out to dry and next morning, donned it.
Whilst at work, I went into my desk drawer and picked up the bottle of red ink that I use to replenish my date stamping pad. Before I got to the task I was interrupted, put the bottle down, turned to my computer and clutched my sweater at the waist.
Then I looked down at my hand.
My index finger was red, a large horizontal stripe of red was also on my sweater. The bottle had leaked without my noticing. After a few curse words under my breath I remembered I had soda water in my office. Here's a hint: soda water will not remove ink from wool. So what do you do? You call mom. Mom knows stuff like this when your brain is all crazy because you can't believe you did something so STOOPID. Her response was: hairspray. I tried it, some of it came out. By this time I gathered my senses and googled the situation. She was right of course because alcohol does a pretty good job. I got home, applied more alcohol, soaked and dried and by golly, you have to get pretty close to tell. If you do get that close, I'm pretty much gonna pop you one for invading my space.
So there you go you lucky little devils. The lesson is: don't pick up the red ink bottle. Let that ink pad just dry up.