I want to be crafting, not blogging. There’s a reason that I’m not and it involves the Fluffy Little Fucker, and letting my girlfriend sleep.

You see, I failed to plan accordingly, and though I have projects out here, I can’t really work on them because in all cases there is one essential part I need locked in my office with the howling fur demon from hell.

Let’s back that up a bit. Last night we tried an experiment. Usually we lock the cat in the office when we go to bed. We decided to let the cat “sleep” in the main room with us. He didn’t do a lot of sleeping. And neither did I. On the one hand, it was very sweet that all he wanted was to nuzzle my hand. On the other hand, all I really wanted to do was sleep. And because I was half asleep through all this, it never occurred to me to lock him back in the office. This makes me the dumb ass in this scenario.

After about 5 hours of this bullshit, it finally occurred to me to put the little asshole back in the office. The problem is, the process of getting up and doing this woke me up. I’ve been awake ever since. After about half an hour, the cat finally quit howling his indignation, and Aack was able to go back to sleep.

After an hour of laying in bed I finally gave up and started reading. I’m currently reading The Subversive Stitch, which is a wonderful book, but I can’t read more than 3 pages before I have a deep seated need to go make something. And therein lies the problem: every project I have out here requires something from the room with the howling beast in it. And Aack is still sleeping. And since it’s my fault we were up until 3 this morning, I really feel I should let her.

So I’m blogging. Under protest. Because it’s something I can make, even if it doesn’t involve a needle and thread.

Fucking cat.

I finally got a new ATM card, as well as a refund from my bank for the European porn, but I haven’t received my new ATM code, so I can use it as a credit card, but can’t make deposits or withdrawals. Oops.

I waited to hear about the job, didn’t even get a phone interview. Oops.

I’m still waiting to hear about prop 8, but I guess I’m feeling more resigned. I alternate between anxious and hopeful. Except now I don’t even do that these days. I think I’m a little bit numb.

I’m glad tomorrow is the end of waiting about this election. I hope I feel the same way at the end of the day tomorrow.

The labels for work finally arrived. I remember now, I hate MS Word’s mail merge.

I waited long enough to finish one pattern, “Shut your whore mouth”. I then promptly started a new project, but it wasn’t even the one I wanted to start. But there was a reason: much like my beloved “whore bag cum dumpster” project, this is an ode to rage. I drove through a yes on prop 8 rally and promptly lost my mind: the project I’ve been working on for the last week is an Americana sampler that has had the phrase “Sweet Land of Liberty” replaced with “Gaping Assholes Inside!”.

What can I say, it seemed appropriate at the time. And it’s helped with the rage.

Life is in a holding pattern right now.

I can’t really shop for anything 1) because I’m broke, and 2) because I had to cancel my atm card because someone bought European subscription porn with it. (Read: someone other than me. If I have to pay for it, I want access to the account.)

I am losing my mind about proposition 8, which is the one that will determine if my girlfriend and I get to get married next year. I already chose not to do it this year, a decision that may give me an ulcer over the next two weeks.

I am still waiting to hear from the Monterey Bay Aquarium about whether or not I got an interview. See above statement about ulcers.

I am waiting at work for labels so I can finish the project from hell which we’ve been trying to get out the door for several months now. Blah.

I am waiting to start any new cross stitch/embroidery patterns until I finish any 2 of the projects I’m currently working on. It doesn’t even have to be the big projects. I have two I can knock out with about 15 minutes of work on each of them.

I also believe I understand why people sell their work. I didn’t used to, I always assumed that if you put that much effort into it, why would you give it away? But thinking about switching jobs suddenly made the light dawn: without the Bitch Scientist, “Fucking Cunt”, “Shut your whore mouth” and “Whore bag cum dumpster” would simply be funny, with no intrinsic meaning for me. I started thinking about what I’d do with them. Give them away? Perhaps. My coworker or my boss might be worthy recipients. And while I would definitely want pictures of the work, the process of making these items is really where the meaning is. Having a cross stitch on your desk that says “Fucking Cunt” is funny, but the process of making “Fucking Cunt” was the meaningful, or at least slightly cathartic part.

Of course, to sell something, I’d have to finish something. Damn.