It's his fault. His pretty pictures set me off on on a quest for self-striping kitchen cotton and gorgeous brown shades of kitchen cotton. I've googled. I've been to the Bernat website, and the websites for every yarn vendor I can think of that might carry it and I'm this close to checking the three Walmarts up in Salem.

It's distracting me from my black eye, which is nice, but I really do wish I could find an online source for the stuff before the purple and black fade and I can't use my owie as justification to buy some.

Sometime in the dark hours between Thursday and Friday, I got up to use the bathroom and ran face first into the edge of our bedroom door. Which should've been open, or maybe closed, not at an angle across the doorway. It really really really hurt and I knew there was going to be a horrible bruise just in time for Leif's appointment with the new pediatrician a few hours later.

It didn't bruise at all. Until this morning, three days later. How does that work? And when is it going to stop hurting?

I had more to write about today, something to do with the Rose Garden Shawl and Picovoli, but after five or six or seven interruptions, it's all left my brain. Hopefully it'll come back.