Here is Erin, being modeled by a guitar.

I keep meaning to stop when I am at the end of a row and stretch her out and take a proper picture. However, at the end of a row I think I’ll do one more row. And then the rows are so long that I often find I can’t get to the end of that “one more row…” after all.

Anyway, this is the first pattern band. I am about four rows into the second band. It is just a five-stitch repeat, a simple geometric thing, so I am having a bit of a break.

This is good, since I seem to be afflicted with Poetic Lassitude. That is one of the diseases mentioned in the book I am reading.

I seem to have an unusual form of the disease, however. Normally, Poetic Lassitude causes one to lie on the sofa, reading poetry and occasionally reciting poetry of one’s own. The form I have contracted, however, causes me to lie on the sofa reading novels and knitting. Perhaps it is Prosodic Lassitude. Prosodic Lassitude with Associated Fiberosis.

Actually, I got a lot of things done yesterday. I was very domestic. I worked on the nightgown a lot, handrolling and boxpleating and slipstitching. I did the long-overdue grocery shopping and reveled in all the nice vegetables, making tortellini soup and a lavish salad.

I also made a Key Lime Mousse Cake. Chanthaboune and Distant Eyes are coming to visit (and bringing some boy who doesn’t yet have a nickname), so I had to try out this new cake recipe. I also had to practice with my new decorating tools which have been languishing in a drawer since Christmas. This is my story, and I am sticking with it.

All my domesticity, however, was of the sort that makes messes, not the sort that cleans them up. So today, in addition to finishing that encyclopedia article and continuing with my knitting and sewing, I hope to do some housework. What an odd sentence: “I hope to do some housework.”