...you stinkin' shrug.
I can feel you watching me everywhere I go, but smothering will get you nowhere buddy. Just ask the Mystique pattern that keeps "bumping" into me as I try to clean the unholy sty that I occasionally call a bedroom. Familiarity breeds contempt, and the more you harangue me about finishing (or casting on--I'm looking at you Mystique) the more appealing the non-demanding Cinched Waist top becomes.
Picking up the number of stitches that you keep insisting I need to requires fortitude...and possibly some liquor...or an incredible, yet non-consuming movie. Maybe I'm exaggerating--you're not really asking for much. But in a world recently filled with Malabrigo Sock, how can you expect me to stay focused?
Speaking of, I have to get back to my busy schedule of staring at the Mal and wondering which pattern is worthy of it.
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