It’s been kind of a crappy day, so I’m currently sitting in my chair with my second cup of tea for the night with a fleece throw around me (it’s chocolate brown and cute). I don’t particularly feel like dealing with my father today, but he’s intent on talking to me (and lecturing me, and so on).
Oh! I went to the library today. First time in a few weeks (… roughly 3, since my last batch of books were due this Saturday). I borrowed two dvds (not sure if I’ll have the time to watch them – I borrowed The Devil Wears Prada and Marie Antoinette), two crochet books (Crochet Me by Kim Werker and Amigurumi! Super Happy Crochet Cute by Elisabeth A. Doherty) and two fiction books (Exposed by Susa Vaught and How They Met, And Other Stories by David Levithan). Granted, not a whole lot (I used to borrow so many books…) but it’s a little bit, just enough to keep my tide over. So far, I’m not sure how many of the amigurumi patterns that I’ll actually try (there’s not a lot that appeals to me – there’s a cupcake pattern, but I’ll have to tweak it as it looks kind of… gimpy with the way the cake part is set up). From the Crochet Me book, there’s a pattern for thigh high stockings that I’m probably going to try, if I get the right weight of yarn (I only own worsted weight, silly me).
My dad just came into the room with Barnaby in his hand and wanting to know (for lack of a better way to translate it) ‘what the hell’ it was. Apparently he doesn’t look like an owl and my dad wanted to know if he could throw Barnaby away. I stared at him and held out my hand for my little pocket owl and took him back and attempted to be as polite as I possibly could and said “Maybe you just should stop going into my room and asking if you can throw away my things.” The reply that I got? “Why would I do that?”
Seriously? It’s not like I walk into my parents room and pick up something that is obviously not garbage like a watch or a wallet or a shirt and do something with it without asking first. Him going in and picking something up off of my desk and asking if he can throw it away would be like me going into my parents’ room and pick up a stack of documents from somewhere and asking if I could shred them. Granted, in theory the documents could be irreplaceable, but if I were to make another owl, it’s not the same. Plus, I ran out of the yarn that I used for Barnaby’s body. And the store that I got it from is 2.5 hours away by transit.
It’s one of those days where I just really want to crawl back into bed right now. Like right this moment. Just turn everything off and crawl into bed.