It's as good a reason as any.

So, Sarah says I need a blog. And I opened this Blogger account, like, what, a year ago? So, since I'm moving and whatnot, and what with the whole "new life" thing, maybe now is a good time to start writing.

What it is not, sadly, is an interesting time to start writing. Today, I packed. And had fits about packing. Which are probably more likely fits about all the things that are going to happen in, oh, the next six weeks, but from where I sit today? Panic attacks about packing. Packing up my small, nearly empty apartment, so I can move what stuff I have thirty miles south this weekend, not even yet packing up for NC. I rented a cargo van, for Pete's sake, not even a truck. Because I have that little here. Yet, freaking out.

Oy. See? I'll be a wonderful psychiatrist. I'm already neurotic and a little off-kilter, and believe me, that's a prerequisite for the job.

In fiber news, the Austerman sock I have on the needles is giving me other fits (see? Again with the fits) because it seems way too big and I swear it's going to fall right down off my dad's scrawny chicken legs, but after the last sock-knitted-for-a-man debacle in our circle and The Incident of the Freakishly Large Heels (sorry, sir, I meant, Manly Spartan Heels), I worry more about them being too small.

When did I become such a worrier? Jeez. If worse comes to worst, I'll just keep them and knit my dad a new pair. Scrawny little chicken legs are not one of the things I inherited from him.

I also am attempting to crochet together my Mismatched Cottons Bathmat that I bought three different kinds of cotton yarn for, like, I don't know, whenever Joyce finished hers, so, four, five months ago? I figure it'll be easier to transport as a bathmat, and besides, I've been looking at the yarn for however many months thinking "I should finish that" and then I actually knit four rows of it and then it sat there for like three months all in its little balls and meanwhile I kept sliding all over the bathroom floor. So, time for it to get finished. Plus, now I have something to work on when I take to my bed in moving-related terror (I'm only partially kidding). Oh! AND I discovered that I'm never starting another crochet project with a foundation chain. I ripped back to the cast on row of this thing, right? And then I did a crochet bind off, and poof! I was in business with a lot less swearing (am I the only one who doesn't find the foundation chain all that...foundational?). So, from now on, I cast on for all of my crochet projects.

Um, yeah, Sarah. I definitely need a blog.