A few finished handspuns recently: a lovely, squishy, smooshy thick instant-gratification single, and my all-time Everest that took me what seems like forever. And ever.
I'm living in the Temple of Disease and Pestilence. A couple weeks ago, Littlest Bug had chicken pox, closely followed by stomach flu (let me tell you, you can never quite unsee the moment when something so little manages to barf up the Pacific Ocean...). Everything seemed fine... until the early hours of Friday morning, when all hell broke loose. Stomach flu snuck up on me, and made its surprise appearance very well known by 3am. Bigger Bug now has chicken pox. And Littlest Bug is battling another round of bronchitis. Basically, a terrible weekend had by all.
Have you ever caught a virus from a child? They're evil mutant diseases that take hold, and don't let go for ever and ever a good couple of weeks. Recently, I caught bronchitis from the kids. Two weeks of a deliciously mucusy hacking cough that puts so much pressure on your head, your eyes feel like exploding. I've spent a lot of time sleeping - coupled with eye strain, that meant very little time spent on spinning. The fifteen minutes of daily spinning I looked forward to began to feel like a chore. I slowed right down - instead of managing four or five batt strips in that quarter hour, I was only halfway through the second when the timer beeped. I was picking up the spindle with a sigh, rather than a smile. It made me sad that I didn't even look forward to my favourite activity anymore. I'd been working on Hen for a long time - my only current spinning project. Maybe putting Hen aside, and starting something new in the meantime would pick me up?
