Bored to Tears
I am absolutely bored to tears with the peach mohair project. Bored so badly, in fact, I have not touched it in four days. Not only have I not touched the darned thing, I have not even bothered to carry it in my knitting bag. The combination of the mohair yarn and the knitting two squares has me thinking about the final outcome. How will that look on me? I am loathed to complete the project, finish it, and block it, only to find that it makes me look boxy.
Work has helped me deepen my hatred of the human race. Today, a woman exchanged a jar of body cream because the bottom of the jar was cracked. Mind you, this has no effect on the cream inside as there is a jar within the jar. Also, bear in mind that there was just over 50% remaining in the jar. What a complete wench. I see this all of the time -- exchanges and returns of product that have been well used. Used beyond the scope of "I tried this for a week or two, and it's not suited to my skin type".
When I lived abroad, I often cringed when I encountered others from the US. It was humiliating to be lumped in with these loud-mouthed buffoons who wore socks with sandles, Suntan pantyhose with shorts, and looked like a walking pound of fries. Similarly, retail work gives me the pleasure of loathing a swarming population of girls who are happy to reveal body fat, ass crack and pubic hair in $150 jeans; pimply white boys playing "ghetto" with their droopy jeans (which frequently reveal ass crack as well), XXXXL shirts, and mumbly-mouthed speak; sextagenarian ladies who think that a pound of spackle from their favored cosmetics counter is hiding their age; former frat boys who share the glory of digging deeply to extract something from their ass crack or "package" area. I am simply aghast. The general public is most disturbing.
In other news, the sweet Snickers seems to be suffering from a broken tail. I noticed a slight "kink" in it the other day, and there was no movement in the tail below the kink. She is scheduled for a vet appointment in the next day or so, and I am hopeful that all will be well. She is still eating well and prancing around -- both indoors and outdoors -- so there does not seem to be any damage to the nerves or to the spine.
Work has helped me deepen my hatred of the human race. Today, a woman exchanged a jar of body cream because the bottom of the jar was cracked. Mind you, this has no effect on the cream inside as there is a jar within the jar. Also, bear in mind that there was just over 50% remaining in the jar. What a complete wench. I see this all of the time -- exchanges and returns of product that have been well used. Used beyond the scope of "I tried this for a week or two, and it's not suited to my skin type".
When I lived abroad, I often cringed when I encountered others from the US. It was humiliating to be lumped in with these loud-mouthed buffoons who wore socks with sandles, Suntan pantyhose with shorts, and looked like a walking pound of fries. Similarly, retail work gives me the pleasure of loathing a swarming population of girls who are happy to reveal body fat, ass crack and pubic hair in $150 jeans; pimply white boys playing "ghetto" with their droopy jeans (which frequently reveal ass crack as well), XXXXL shirts, and mumbly-mouthed speak; sextagenarian ladies who think that a pound of spackle from their favored cosmetics counter is hiding their age; former frat boys who share the glory of digging deeply to extract something from their ass crack or "package" area. I am simply aghast. The general public is most disturbing.
In other news, the sweet Snickers seems to be suffering from a broken tail. I noticed a slight "kink" in it the other day, and there was no movement in the tail below the kink. She is scheduled for a vet appointment in the next day or so, and I am hopeful that all will be well. She is still eating well and prancing around -- both indoors and outdoors -- so there does not seem to be any damage to the nerves or to the spine.
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