Earlier tonight, I was feeling blue and discontented and lonesome and self-pitying. And then I decided to cut it out. Not because of my congenital Pollyannaism, but because for some reason, I thought of Buffy. Specifically, Once More, With Feeling. I cracked a beer and I’m watching it and singing along with a giant, shit-eating grin. All’s right with the world.
My shoulder and arm are all wonky, so tomorrow, no knitting, no spinning, nothing on the computer, because I’m about to go balls out of my Drusilla corset, which has been kind of progressing in unsatisfying dribs and drabs, and it’s unforgiving linen, so I want to be in prime knitting shape.
Spike’s solo is coming up. I gotta go!