WTF happened to a timely WTF Wednesday? Sheesh, it’s darned near Thursday.
WTF Music: My eldest daughter been using my I-Pod since the unfortunate washing of her last one. Monday I decided to “borrow” it back to listen to at work while waiting for my students to arrive. While A1 had it she added some new music with an I-Tunes gift card. She asked first and I gave the “okay” after she told me some of the titles. Many of her song choices were welcome, or at least tolerable. Besides, it had been quite some time since new selections graced my listening library. Please note that I’m not a music snob, nor do I only like one genre of artists. Some of the groups and singers already loaded on my I-Pod included ABBA, Queen, George Strait, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Nat King Cole, Classical music, Bob Marley , lots of 1980’s music as well as newer selections by performers like Owl City, Pink and Train. I take great pride in my eclectic musical tastes, but apparently I’m not that liberal. It just so happened that one of my co-workers walked by and picked my I-Pod about three seconds after it switched from Aerosmith to Justin Bieber. Great! No amount of explaining could convince this person that I don’t really listen to pre-pubescent teenaged boys. To make matters worse, when I forwarded to the next song ( “shuffle” mode) Miley Cyrus popped up.
WTF Who Dressed You?: I rocked the “To Do” list on Saturday. In addition to the yard work (mentioned in a previous post) I got caught up on paperwork, cleaned the inside of the house and did laundry. I’d owned the day! Included in the laundry was my everyday jacket. It’s a black parka-style coat that magnetically attracts cat hair, lint and an assortment of light-colored foods. Luckily it came out of the dryer about the same time I finished my shower, so I was able to wear my still-warm jacket to the grocery store that evening. Even though my body felt like it’d been ran through a meat grinder I shopped with my head held high. Success as a modern woman; undefeated by a full-time job, three kids, a little bit of M.S. and maintaining a house and yard, made walking through the store and not telling complete strangers of my accomplishments difficult. I totally wanted to let everyone know how awesome I was. It may have been my imagination too, but it seemed that everyone who looked at me held their gaze longer than normal, as if they innately knew about my awesomeness. By the time I made my way to the check out stand the temptation to brag was overwhelming. The cashier was a captive audience, but at least she feigned interest as I unloaded the cart and recounted my Herculean tasks. Only when getting my debit card out to pay did I notice the black sock hanging from the velcro closure on the front of my jacket.
WTF Knitting Ego: Several people I know have recently taken up knitting. Even after decades dedicated to the craft I still would never claim to be more than intermediate, but it’s still hard to not give advice, especially when it’s solicited by novice stitchers. Yesterday during lunch one of them asked what I was currently making, so I reached into my ever-present project bag to pull out the nearly finished socks for admiration…
Sadly, the finer details of the socks went unnoticed as cold, brown tea dripped from their soggy strands. My travel cup had fallen over and leaked. Because my bag is waterproof the liquid didn’t leak out and the socks acted like a sponge, soaking up most of the spilled beverage. What the socks didn’t pick up, the pages of a borrowed book did. She didn’t ask to hold it.
Today the same person bravely inquired again about my knitting. Luckily nothing had spilled. Unfortunately, when it emerged (it’s a new pair of Fetching for my middle daughter) the ball of yarn was missing. I began rifling through the bag, muttering to myself all the while.
Only a wee little string was attached to the thumbless, unfinished second glove. I began rifling through the bag, muttering to myself all the while. A final dump of the bag revealed that the yarn wasn’t missing, I’d just ran out. Crappity crap crap. When the reality dawned I said a few choice words then shoved them back in the bag. My ramblings about ripping back back a few rows from the first (I made them longer, as requested by A2) then using the yarn to finish the second thumb were peppered with outbursts of profanity. Chances are, she won’t ask to see any more of my knitting. Hopefully she won’t quit her own knitting for fear of becoming insane. I knit to relax dammit!