Not whining

I haven't been blogging for two reasons:

1. I didn't want to be a whiner about feeling like hammered poo.

2. I haven't been doing much of anything since I feel like hammered poo.

Keith's grandfather died earlier this week, and he's been up in Wisconsin the past couple of nights. He's back home now. His grandpa was around 98 years old, and he wasn't the oldest living relation. While it would have been nice to see his rels from Wisconsin and Iowa, I'm sure everyone was glad my sniffly, sneezy, coughy self wasn't around.

Instead, I did think about knitting, but found out that for a former stray kitty, Chubby is an incredible snuggle pest. The two of us would get on the bed to watch TV. I would get my knitting out, but I'd have to pet him. That led to biting and bunny kicking of my arms (he attacks the one I'm not petting him with). He then falls into that exhausted sleep of a happy kitty with his front paws holding onto to either my arm or my leg. I can't move whatever he's holding onto as he will wake up and start the whole nibbling and bunny kicking all over again. He was blissfully happy. I look like I've been wrestling a briar patch. In fact, he's sleeping under my feet right now. I am very grateful he's not trying to bite my toes.

As my hopes fade for any Ravelympics glory, I find I'm not upset. I thought I would like knitting the Spring Fling socks, but I'm not lovin' them. I've even been thinking of frogging them and using the yarn for something else. Isn't it odd that there are so many people knitting this pattern and really enjoying it, and I'm thinking "ho hum"? I love the No Purl Monkeys, so it's just something about this pattern.

Must go. Dinner's up.