When you get a cast removed, the underlying muscles and tendons that usually do a bunch of work holding your limb up and making it go have generally shriveled into unhappy immobility. Plus, the skin underneath is used to being protected so there's a huge amount of sensitivity. It translates into I lost 2 days of work because I couldn't move the arm without curling up and whimpering.
Lots of warm water/compresses/gentle stretching exercises later, I'm starting to feel a little more human. Thank goodness.
Meanwhile, not a lot has been happening on the knitting front. I'd feel bad, but the first 2 days not a lot happened on the being able to get dressed front... it's good to remember.
Since the current knitting looks like this:
|vine and ivy pattern test-knit in dye for yarn's tussah laceweight|
For now, the newly christened wall o yarn is sitting in front of the (functionally useless) hearth in my 'yellow room.' Once I get a bit more mobility and a bit more wherewithal, the stash will be moved to the newly enclosed porch where it will trouble no-one, and I can sneak out and bask in it when things are frustrating.
Here's the left side:
|currently, our not-yet-unpacked cds are in the bottom providing ballast|
That being explained, here is the right wall o wool.
Three years of hoarding, but I could knit all of this within 18 months if yarn stores suddenly went away.
This is where I'm keeping the expensive stuff:
|silk, silk, silkedy-silk|
|superwash fingering weight|
Looking at all this stash, I probably should feel guilty instead of gleeful. But, I don't smoke, drink, invest heavily in makeup or clothes (unless I'm knittin' 'em), or travel much. Yarn is my extravagance, my therapist, a friend who doesn't mind if I come downstairs and pet it at 3 in the morning, and a way for me to tell the people around me that I love them even though I'm a complete social klutz. (Not many people can get their foot as far down their throat in a lifetime as I can in 10 unguarded minutes.)
Also, I'm putting this up for posterity. The counters aren't as uncluttered as they were last night (still have coffee making things on them), but they're cleaner than they have been since I broke my radius and ulna at the wrist.
|lest I forget it can be done|
|the rolling island, and my antique 1852 keys,|