Making good on my threat

It's a quiet night here. Angus is snoring melodically on the couch and the Fool and Jamie are back from a weekend in Minnesota. I got to stay here. All by myself in the house. With all my various projects and not too many commitments, and some friends who came by to visit.
It was awesome.

I spent a lot of time in sweatpants, didn't do very much by way of household chores and futzed around with fabric and yarn and movies on DVD from the library.

Totally awesome. I haven't done that since before Jamie was born.

Anyway, I did reknit the neck on the Fool's sweater and blocked it and wove in the ends just in time for him to wear it on his trip. He complained a little bit, though.

FOOL: This sweater is still damp. I can't wear it.
ME: Yes, you can. It will dry from your body heat.

FOOL: It is making my shirt wet.

ME: It's not that bad. It's more Irish that way. You can pretend you were out walking around in the misty Galway night on the way home from a session.

FOOL: Mrrf.

To my relief, Blackwater Abbey still stretches vertically quite a bit, and the sleeves were much looser once we got the thing wet. The color is supposed to be a wine red, but I plead dark hallway at night.

Now I'm on to a vest I put in time out for no good reason at all.