Twists of Fate

That’s the temp in my living room at the moment. It’s nearly 8pm.

I think I may be dying. Or melting.

You have to understand. The average temp in Seattle in July is somewhere in the mid-70s. The chocolate bar I bought for myself yesterday at Ikea melted on the countertop. I’m on the third of three floors of the building, and my apartment is oriented east-west. Great light. Lots of light. From the big ball of burning fire in the sky.

I’m looking at the Schacht Matchless single treadle I found on craigslist. It’s just sitting there. Looking neglected, sad, and underutilized. I’m a bit iffy on how to change the tension to double drive, and haven’t really played with it that much. This is a shame.

But note the temperature. I love wool, I do. But it’s over 90 degrees. I’m sucking down icewater like someone is going to try to take it away from me. I had half a dozen crackers and two slices of roast beef today and that’s all I could choke down without it threatening to come back up because I am so. Fucking. Hot.

So I’ve turned to an older past time for now. I resurrected Maiden of the Seasons I. I would rather work on The Dreamer but I can’t find her. I’d work on something smaller, but all the cross stitch stuff is in storage and I can’t be arsed to drive down there. Because that would mean getting dressed in clothing that would add to the temperature, getting in a car where the average temp is probably around 120 degrees, and mucking around with big cardboard boxes. Yeah. Don’t think so. I’ve gotten quite a bit done, surprisingly. If I actually finish this before, oh, 2008 I’ll be pleasantly surprised.

If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find a cooler place to sweat.

PS - thank you Norma, Elaine and Cathy for the birthday wishes. :D They helped. A LOT. I will respond to your comments as soon as I stop threatening to swamp my keyboard with sweat. Ew.