When Drinking During the Debates isn't an Option

In The Lion In Winter, Eleanor of Aquitaine picks up a mirror, then puts it down, saying, "I can't look. I'd turn to salt." I felt much the same way about the debates last night. I watched for about eight minutes, and after screaming myself hoarse, I decided to do something productive instead. I organised patterns!

 

After I moved to New Orleans, I never really finished unpacking. There are still a few boxes of oddments and endments that I just don't know what to do with, where to put, how to organise, but at the same time, things I don't want to get rid of. It's hell living in a location that can't have basements because the water table is so high. Our house actually stands on pylons, and there is space between the building and the ground. I don't want to even imagine what lives under the house. I've seen the cockroaches in this burg.

But one of my boxes contained about 20 or so patterns, and I sat and fitted them into plastic sleeves to keep them all together. Some were duplicated, because I'd forgotten I'd printed them, but I just stuffed them in together. There were all sorts of goodies. A peacock shawl, a Canadian maple leaf toque, a red dragon toque, various shawls and cabled scarves, and even an Icelandic sweater pattern, named Oðinn which I'd like to make sometime.

In all, it was a very satisfying experience to get all those patterns into sleeves. I know there are more packed away in various boxes that I haven't gotten to yet, but I will, eventually.