September 18, 2006
When I tell a really bad joke.
I survived yet another weekend. It actually wasn't too bad.
On Saturday I went to knitting class so that I can "add new skills" to my repertoire. I just love my instructor, she's so cute and artsy. She's also really sweet, and if you could read between the lines here that means that she lets the pushy student get ALL of her time and attention, because she's too kind to say "I'm sorry but it's time for me to help someone else now." Overall it was pretty cool.
I'm in the middle of knitting this big, fluffy scarf. It's burgundy and it's going to be mammoth when I'm done with it. Considering it will be the first "real" project I've created from start to finish, I'm pretty happy about it. I just keep thinking about all the cool stuff I'll be making later.
That reminds me about this joke that was emailed to me over the weekend.
There was once a little old couple that were married over 60 years. They had shared everything, talked about everything. They had kept no secrets from each other except that the little old woman had a shoebox in the top of her closet that she had cautioned her husband never to open or ask her about.
For all of these years, he had never thought about the box, but one day the little old woman got very sick and the doctor said she would not recover. In trying to sort out their affairs, the little old man took down the shoebox and took it to his wife's bedside. She agreed that it was time that he should know what was in the box.
When he opened it, he found two crocheted doilies and a stack of money totaling about $25,000. He asked her about the contents.
"When we were to be married," she said, "my grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I ever got angry with you, I should just keep quiet and crochet a doily."
The little old man was so moved he had to fight back tears. Only two precious doilies were in the box. She had only been angry with him two times in all those years. He almost burst with happiness.
"Honey," he said, "that explains the doilies, but what about all of this money? Where did it come from?"
"Oh," she said, "that's the money I made from selling the doilies."
The only problem I see is that knitting involves two long, pointy sticks, and when He gives me shit, I picture myself sticking one of them into some soft, fleshy area of his body. Since He gives me shit often, I'm not sure it's safe to knit when He's around.
There was a bit of good news today. My next paycheck (which I was expecting to have to spend on bills, bills, and more bills) is safe. So, my check will be put into the "Moving out/Freedom" savings account...and might mean the difference between a November or December move date. (I love good news.)
Anyhow, I'm glad another weekend is behind me, and I know this is going to be a GREAT week.
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jktty at 4:15 p.m.