I would like to post a Crochet Bag entry today. I'd like to show the veritable plethora of baby hats I have recently made. I would like to link to all the patterns and lament about how they were all made with scraps, so I have no idea what the yarn is, because I'm like that and never, EVER keep labels. Even though I know I should.
However, today I woke up bleeding in ways that are pure TMI and freaking out, being sure that there was hemorrhaging or something, only to be convinced by Doctor Google that I had cancer, terrible, terrible, evil cancer and death. Definitely death.
Then, I went to the real doctor who convinced me that although I am not fine by any stretch of the imagination, I am more or less fine and there is nothing wrong with me that can't be fixed with a shot to the rear and a whole crapload of pills (luckily for me, the pills weren't all that expensive, considering the total crapload-i-ness of them).
And so, now I'm home, nursing a headache and a fever and trying to convince myself that another bottle of water is the perfect thing. Really, just one more, it's good for you, Jessi.
So, when I tell you that I would love to write a post about my recent crochet conquests, but can't because I'm too tired to look for my memory card reader; and that I would likewise love to write a post about the downside to having a terribly high pain threshold, but can't because I'm to tired to do much other than complain about my lot in life, then you should believe me.
I, of course, don't care whether or not you believe me, because the couch is all the way over there and my sweater isn't keeping me warm anymore, so I need to hike all the way to the bedroom to get a heavier sweater, so I've got enough on my mind. It's a ranch house, there aren't even stairs, but I'd kinda rather freeze than go get a stupid sweater. So, really believe me or not, I'm takin' a nap. GOODNIGHT CLEVELAND!