Tales of Transit Terror

Sitting on the train, yesterday morning, more or less pleasantly enveloped in my usual morning fog (made foggier by virtue of it being Monday), blindly knitting on the sock-in-progress.

A young man sits down next to me.

He: “What are you making?”
Me: “A sock.”
He: “A baby sock?”
Me: “No, an adult sock.”
He: “Oh, the reason I asked is because my girlfriend missed her period so I guess we’re gonna have a baby its due sometime next summer so I’m going to have a kid and I don’t know what to do because I’m gonna have a kid and what would you do here if you were gonna have a kid are you sure that’s not a baby sock?”
Me: (to self) “Why me?”

Sigh.

Quasi-productive evening. Came home, put some chicken in the oven. Burned the crap out of my arm taking chicken out of oven. Ouch. But it’s not a knit-impeding burn.

Did a little knitting but I kept dozing off, due to sleeplessness of the previous night. Here’s a Fulmar pic:

And here is a photo of the full width of it. The color is wa-a-a-ay off, but I lightened it up to show detail. The close up photo is much closer to the true color.

Happy U.S. Election Day. Don’t forget to vote.

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