I can't work like this
Lunchtime at Nake-id Knits
You'd think it was Chez Panise: The cats get wet food at 11 a.m., which means they start screaming for it at 9:30. When that doesn't work, they begin the physical interventions. Purring. Rubbing. Body slamming. Paper clip stealing. And staring. The staring really gets to me. All I can say is the stuff must taste like ambrosia.
Knitwise, well, take a look at the kitties, aren't they cute? Nice kitties. What darling diversionary tactics.
In my own defense, I've been most diligent on LaFiestaMIL. Thank God for Barbara Kingsolver's audio version of Prodigal Summer--the extravagant language and rampant fecundity is seeing me through. I'll be knitting along and suddenly people will be having hot sex in my headphones. Hey, whatever gets the job done, right?
8:10:32 AM 
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