Tomorrow is the Christmas lights turn on. Again! Already! How can this be? I just blinked and it was August. Tomorrow marks the start of the slide into insanity that is widely seen in households that combine Christmas season overtime with participation in various musical endeavours that require rehearsals, practices, and eventually Christmas performances culminating this year in an already dreaded 6-shows-in-4-days starting on 14 December. On top of the 4 shows the week before, 2 additional rehearsals, 2 work Christmas lunches, a Knit Night Christmas party, and - oh yeah, work. Neal's working 6 day weeks and the house is slowly but surely turning to the dark side. At least now we have a dishwasher so there will be no more wineglass meltdowns this year (recap: "I have two degrees how can I be incapable of cleaning a bloody wineglass?") It's the most wonderful time of the year indeed.
Work is crazy because we are starting on site two weeks from Monday.
Bear with me for a moment while I remind myself not to hyperventilate and have a large slug of wine. OK. We can continue.
It will be fine. I am learning a lot (COUGH). I have spent the last two weeks running around like a headless chicken trying to solve problems I didn't even know I had - and that, I suspect, is setting the pattern for the year ahead.
By Friday my poor brain is so knackered that I am reduced to inarticulate gibbering by 4pm. This evening I sat down to do the last finishing on a Christmas knitting gift that needed a hanging loop sewn on. I did a magnificent job - really taking pride in doing it thoroughly - "no way is this going to fall off" I thought as I stitched away. "Look," I said, holding it up proudly, whereupon Neal nearly fell off his chair laughing. I had sewn the loop to the wrong side. Very thoroughly indeed as it turned out. "Muppet," he said lovingly, still laughing.
And that about sums it up. It's been a remarkably dry Autumn, which is probably terrible for agriculture but has been very nice indeed for long runs. The dark is closing in but this side of Christmas I don't mind so much somehow. The pubs have their fires roaring, knitwear feels snugly, and beef stew and ham hocks taste fresh and exciting. You'll remind me of all of this in February and I will wonder what on earth I saw in it all, but for now, it's all good.
