Someone over in the knitting community just got an antique sock knitting machine. Here’s what one does.
I desperately require one of these for my continued existence on this planet. You may leave it in a box on the front stoop. Thank you.
I’ve been feeding the cats of the lady across the street for the last couple of weeks while she’s been up in the mountains.
Her house is the biggest sty ever. Really, it’s like one of those places you read about, where there are two bedrooms filled with crap, and a path to a bed in a third that has half a sheet partly covering a bare mattress. We won’t even discuss the kitchen. If it weren’t an invasion of her prvacy, I would totally post pics.
But hey! If she wants to live in a fire hazard, that’s not my business. She has two kids who visit her regularly, she still holds a job, and there are people who can step in and say “this is crazy!” if they want.
No, that’s not what bothers me. What bothers me is that she has FLEAS. Fleas which are now hungry, after two weeks of no human host, and which assault me every time I go in the door. Obviously I didn’t realize this when I agreed to brave the filth and feed the cats.
Aside from my desire to not go to Simucon with flea-bitten legs, I really, really do not want to bring more vermin back into my house. We already apparently have a mouse which has taken up residence in our kitchen. I’ll be getting Hav-A-Hart traps today. No fleas! No! Fleas!
I’m dreading going over to that house this morning. Ew. Just… ew.