No wool as yet. I am officially pouting. Actually, there’s been no post for us in the last week, and I’m starting to get nervous. I have the names of a few wool places, and I think I’ll wool hunt tomorrow. I made the mistake of asking the house-witch I’m staying with if I could possibly dye my wool outside in the shed and she was highly not amused. My scarf is going to have to wait. There is a really lovely pattern for a jumper for the aids babies in Africa that I’ll knit instead.
The weather is beautiful at the moment, but the uni has switched on his heating system, which I can see heralding a trip to the doctor to stave off the sniffles. Mmmm… not looking forward to that at all. I slept in until midday today, not from laziness, but a stuffy head and even turned down a doppio from Tonic (gasp). I did however, accept a Red Bull, and that has allowed me to function relatively normally today. I love taurine almost as much as I love caffeine. Artificial adrenaline. Just what we all need.
But for now, there is a journal article to finish reading, and Verdi’s Requiem to enjoy. And laksa from the Asian Noodle House to enjoy. Perfect.
Knitting: Nothing. Knitty owns me, and I’m pouting over the lack of Wool Shack packages.
Reading: John Mee’s “Mopping Up Split Religion:The Problem of Enthusiasm”. Romanticism on the Net, 25 (Feb 2002).
Music: Verdi’s Requiem – Sanctus