Noro Scarf is now over four feet long. That leaves less than two feet to knit. A weekend's worth easily.
Except for one problem. Noro Scarf has come to a grinding halt due to a nasty case of tenosynovitis in my left thumb. I can't write. I can't lift a saucepan. And I can't knit.
Not two feet's worth anyhow. My limit is currently two lousy rows a night.
And in pain.
Cruel really, isn't it?
Tonight I find myself at a total loss. I have three unfinished knitting projects that I can't do. I have been separated from my current book, Murakami's The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle since last weekend. (It is probably sitting on my bedside table in Melbourne, which is not helpful to me now.) My erudite choice, The Scottish Covenanters by Johannes G Vos is far too...well... erudite...for tonight. Which leaves me with The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd, which will do. With a hot cup of tea and a chocolate and a hot water bottle.
It is actually a terrific book if you're in the mood, but really I'd rather my scarf.
Has anybody seen the film?