All right, I know the reality is that most people coming onto this site couldn't give a rat's arse about knitting, and you probably think it's for old ladies. That's what is so very punk rock about knitting. You're making assumptions about me, which makes another nice layer of societal camouflage designed to keep the unworthy out of my elite inner circle.
So husband's promotion to Vice President/Treasurer of his company earned him an office move to the executive wing of the basement. It's much larger and brighter, and it has fringe benefits for me. His old office (a repurposed bedroom) makes a much cozier art studio than the garage. What it lacks in Potato Barn earnestness, it makes up for with padded carpeting and fewer spiders. My yarn moved right in and made itself at home. It's kind of like having my own dorm room without the nuisance of trying to squeeze in a bed and a room mate. Unless you factor in the cat. At least I can trust her not to flake out and try to set the place on fire. Ah, college…
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