tenbears and I went a little crazy and tidied up some house yesterday. We even made a few sensible decisions about furniture placement and such. This was great, but I'm feeling it today. Am off to lie in the bath for a really long time I think.

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I do need something other than knitting and crochet in my life. Having said that, doing one or the other with an audio book isn't a bad way to spend a few hours. But it's not something I'll throw myself into the way I did when, for example, I first realised just how much satisfaction I was getting out of LJ a few years ago. (That was when I had one of those moments where you think "I could go really crazy with this...would that be a good idea or a bad idea?" Followed by "Well fuck, why not try it and see what happens?" So for a while there, I jumped right in and blogged to the nth degree and had a whale of time and got much personal satisfaction from the whole thing, on a whole bunch of levels. But the point is, that's not what's happenning with handcrafts. It's something I like as an adjunct to other things. If all I do in a day is knit, I get kind of cranky and weird.)

I've realised I don't like putting dates on when I start and finish projects, because then I find myself contemplating how much of my life has just gone into this or that little project and I spiral downhill into existential angst. I've also observed that a lot of the satisfaction I get is the challenge of learning rather than the process itself.

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I can feel one of those life stocktakes coming on.

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I have been keeping a sleep diary for my forthcoming sleep study. They give you the questionnaire with all the dates filled in for a fortnight. You just fill in the little boxes every day. This all sounds straightforward but I am somehow a day ahead. And I did start on the right day...oh well.

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But getting back to the yarn stuff that I'm totally not obsessed with, I'm amazed at how quickly one builds up a yarn stash. It's like it breeds. And I will confess that while I'm realising I don't get joy from knitting every damn day (and am making a point of not doing so because it's not really wise anyway), I really enjoy ogling my stash.

How fucked up is that? Thank god I blog under a pseudonym.

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Oh and I think I had a positive personal epiphany last night with bonus momentary sense of connection to Something Greater and no, there was no sex or masturbation involved (nor intense sublimation of same).

Memo to self: allow this to happen more often.

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Anyway, I'm off to frot some wool then go have a much needed bath. I'm a bit worried that I'm starting to become one of those recluses who smell funny.