And it's New Yarn Shop Eve!! (see post below) This has been a frustratingly crazy week and I'm so glad I'm taking Monday off. Boy is driving down from Asheville on Sunday, to collect the dresser for his daughter's room (holy crap, it's so weirdly wonderful to write that), and, if it fits in the van with the dresser, a living room chair too. He'll roll in on Sunday afternoon, hopefully before dinner, and we'll maybe load the furniture right away, just in case it rains on Monday. I have Monday off to get the roof fixed, but that's weather permitting, of course.
Either way, it's a three day weekend, a new yarn shop, a visit from my wonderful Boy (who will be 30 this year, and no, I don't refer to him as "Boy" IRL). Furniture is moving to NC. The baby outfits I bought for my impending granddaughter will go on their merry way. I will shove furniture around in the living room and reclaim the chair I bought to be my knitting chair:
I bought that damn chair because the arms were just right and it fit me, and look what claimed it. They are going to have to shift their happy asses to the loveseat. It's partly my fault - the chair wasn't in the right position to make it mine. I need to flip the layout so the light comes over my left shoulder, which is the only way it works for me, because my left eye is my wonky vision eye, and I'm used to my Ott light (and wine glass) on the end table at my left. Easy to do, and I'll do it this weekend, and the cats can shift their geriatric asses.
I did the math with Girl. My cats are 14 and at least 15. Higgins, the orange one, came to us as a young adult. When we adopted him, we were told he was around a year old. Of course, cat ages have a window, so I now say "at least 15." Boris was an ugly little scrawny squirrel of a kitten in 1996, so his age isn't in doubt. (They were adopted at the same time.)
Damn, we are all getting old around here. Yet, somehow it doesn't feel like it.