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I couldn’t sleep last night, so I taught myself how to knit.  I had stopped at Meijer’s on the way home from swing to pick up milk and one other thing, and of course left with a whole basket full of stuff, including one of those “I Taught Myself Knitting!” kits.  Part of the attraction was that it included a cable stitch needle, which I want to use to make cables with in Tunisian crochet.  When I got home I put the groceries away, and then decided to open up the kit to take a look at the instructional booklet.  And then it didn’t look too hard, so I thought I’d try it a little.  Figuring out how to cast on the first stitches was the hardest part.  After that it went more smoothly, although by the time I hit my second row I had approximately twice as many stitches on my needles as I started with (I have no idea how that happened).  Anyway, next thing I knew it was something like three am, and although I was tired, I still wasn’t particularly sleepy.  I took a shower and only then started to feel sleepy. By then it was a bit past four, and I knew I needed to be up in time to take the recycling out to the alley before the trash guys came through.  So I set my alarm, slept a little, and miraculously woke up in time to get the recycling out, take out the trash, and even make it to work (sort of) on time.  The problem is that my brain is protesting this rough treatment by going on something of a sit down strike.  It just won’t work, not for love or money (or coffee).  I’ve been sitting at my desk all morning, staring at the computer and getting precious little actual work done.  (I have, however, looked up several excessively cute skirt and shrug patterns I could knit.)  I’ve been trying to do actually useful things, but I end up staring blankly at the screen, and next thing I know I’m updating my twitter.  Friends, this is not good.

In general my body seems to be rebelling against me lately, so perhaps my brain’s refusal to work is just part of a trend.  My stomach and I haven’t been getting along for days now.  It’s just been hurting for no apparent reason since Monday afternoon.  It’s never enough to really be sick, but too much to ever be really comfortable.  I don’t know what the deal is.  I’ve tried coddling it, attempting to coax it towards happiness with Saltines and bananas, but so far nothing has worked.  Lone Wolf (and wow, it was a looong time ago that I came up with that nickname) says that I shouldn’t be so conciliatory.  He says I shouldn’t let my stomach push me around so much.  My stomach needs to be shown who’s boss!  It’s the spoiled-toddler of the body, needing discipline and authority, not indulgence.  (Coming soon: a Very Special Episode of Supernanny, in which Nanny Jo comes to mediate between me and my stomach.)  I mentioned this approach to Einstein, who told me about the time he tried to teach his stomach a lesson by eating nothing but nachos for an entire day, and the very interesting shades of yellow he got to see at the end of it.  Yeah, I don’t think I’ll go that route…