Bony Fingers

The window's fixed. I thik it turned out to be their fault after all, because after telling me that they had to go to Springfield and that they couldn't figure it out at all, they suddenly called and said they'd be here in a couple of hours and fixed it lickety split with no explanation. Not that I'm complaining. I have an intact window again, that's enough for me.

The second sleeve is progressing sloooooowly. I despair of ever finishing it, and consequently of ever starting or finishing anything else, although I have the yen to knit.

Tired, stressed, house unsold, move unmoved, feeling stuck in the mud in every meaning of the phrase.

"Work your fingers to the bone and whattaya get?

Bony fingers, bony fingers"

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