The Daily Trauma

All the news that's fit to print. Well, not news exactly. More like I dragged some gas company representative away from his cozy cottage and made him sleuth out a gas leak at Clementine's. The funniest part is, it wasn't a gas leak at all, but an old, unused sink in the tiny room under the stairs (for those who've actually been in the shop, it's the other door in the loo) that had evaporated all the water out of the trap and it was sewer gas filling the store. Gag. Some dish soap and two pots of hot water later, all is well. The sewing classes went as planned, though I really have to get someone in on Saturdays from now on. I can't cut fabric for (or talk fast enough to) everyone to fill orders and answer questions. It was a good day, though, aside from all the stink and scare and chaos.

Gaylen, I have a fussy bit of yarn that quite vocally informed me that it would much prefer living in the pacific northwest to this bitter cold we're having here. I showed it your blog entries about the furnace not working and the four pooches, and all the dishes that could potentially break, but it wants to take it's chances. I'll be scrawling your addy on an envelope Monday, so start planning your next pair of socks. 'Mouthy Yarn' is a terrifically, girly pink, but alas seems to be in the throes of teenager-dom... probably you'll require a fifth of bourbon to sufficiently get a pair knitted. It's some of Lotusknitter's semi-solid yarn. You'll melt when you see it, I promise.

My best news of the day is the man did about seven loads of laundry, had the kids put away the tree (finally... I was considering plastering it with Valentines and paper doilies), and the floors have all been vacuumed and wiped. The hall closet door even shuts now, and I have no clue how he got that to happen. I've got to get busy looking busy, 'cuz I feel awfully guilty about playing here on the blog. He even had dinner ready when I got home... how cool is that? Type at y'all later. C