Not that you're old, exactly

There were men crawling all over the house this morning when I left for work. Bob was opening the windows from the inside and there was a guy on a ladder outside the bedroom window unlatching the hinge so they could paint the windows (so they wouldn't be painted shut, of course, like they were last time--there was still one window that we'd never opened since).

They're supposed to finish today, more than a month since they started. They're doing a really good job, though, and the delays weren't their fault--it's been a really rainy Spring. Still, it will be nice to have it finished, and not have to worry about people on ladders looking in the upstairs windows. One morning last week I went upstairs to get dressed and there was a guy outside the window; I just had to remember to get my clothes and take them into the bathroom from then on, since I never knew when there would be someone out there.

Bob called me as I was driving to work to tell me that he had gone looking for the cats, and found both Pye and Dinah under the bed. That's Dinah's retreat of choice, but I don't know that Pye has ever hidden under there--she's usually right at the door when someone knocks, eager to check them out. I would have thought she'd be standing on the windowsill watching the men work, but apparently even she has her limits.

At some point the front door is going to have to be open while they paint it, and Bob said he thought he'd just put a litter box in the bedroom and shut them up in there. At least it should be the last day. He called a little later and said that Pye had come out, finally, but that Dinah was still having a nervous breakdown, but then a little while later Dinah had come out and basically knocked Pye off of Bob's lap so he could hold her. Just another interesting day at the Cline house.

I'm not crazy about the color, it's a little greener than I would have chosen if it had just been up to me, but I suppose it will be fine.

Let's see, what else has been going on . . . Dave won a "Happy Hour" at the bar across the street from the office, so we did that on Friday evening. They put out a taco bar for us and gave us one free drink apiece, and we invited the people who work in the advertising agency downstairs from us, and a few other random friends, so they came over and that was fun. Dave's wife came by, too, and someone that she works with. I ate, talked for awhile, then pulled out my knitting and worked on my sock.

Gard said, "I don't want to call you old, Willa, but you're knitting in a bar." Oh well.

I drove out to Lawrence on Sunday on an emergency knitting trip. I decided I wanted to try knitting on short--5"--double pointed needles rather than the 7-1/2" ones I've been using, and the only shop in town that is a reliable source of the kind I use--Brittany birch (wooden) ones--isn't open on Sundays. And I couldn't remember if they had the shorter ones or not, anyway, so I didn't want to wait until today (they're also closed on Mondays, I think) to find out, then not be able to get out to Lawrence until next weekend. Or order them online.

So I made a mad trip out there, got the needles: one pair of Size 0 and one pair of Size 1, plus a couple of balls of Fixation cotton sock yarn and a few other little things--some darning needles, some stitch holders, a wooden cable needle that I thought was cool.

To prove that I actually am knitting entire pairs of socks:

Well, all except the last one. I'm working on it.