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This is what I ought to be doing:

  • Sewing Christmas presents
  • Knitting Christmas presents
  • Fixing my nails (don’t think I can stand those chips any longer)*
  • Washing a load of delicates so I don’t have to go to work bare legged in the freezing cold anymore
  • Drafting & cutting out a pattern for a shirt
  • Finishing any one of several unfinished projects that just need a little more work to turn them from a pile of unusable fabric/yarn into a useful object (see also: that black pencil skirt that just needs one more fitting tweak and it will finally be ready to finish, the flannel petticoat that has been getting shoved around the sewing room for the last, um, year, my Triggy shawl that got shelved almost two years ago when I had to knit a wedding veil and just resurfaced again, etc.)
  • Organizing my sewing room so maybe I can finally find those scraps of white jersey knit I know I had left over from the little cardigan I made this summer that I now want to use for a particular project
  • Dishes
  • Whatever I have to do to actually get to bed early tonight so that I can get up extra early again tomorrow, and yet not be dead at work.

This is what I want to do:

  • Laze about on the couch reading fiction so light it would float away if you didn’t hold on to it extra hard
  • Drink tea
  • Feel pitiful because I have a slightly nasty cough that just won’t go away, and a bit of a headache.
  • Possibly include a certain amount of Pinterest browsing, or other internet time wastage
  • Watch Iron Man I & II, which I just got from Netflix (it is possible that this watching might also accommodate some of the activities on the first list).
  • Start yet another involved craft project that isn’t strictly necessary, nor likely to end in being able to cross someone off my gifts-to-be-made list

Instead I’m blogging.

My new slippers are really pretty.  I’d show you, but it’s surprisingly hard to take halfway decent pictures of your own feet.  When I look at them, it reminds me that at least I’ve accomplished one thing over the last twenty-four hours.  So there’s hope for me yet.

In the meantime, I’ll have to think some more about that to-do list of mine.

*Yeah, I never thought I’d be the kind of girl to say something like that either.  But sometime last Spring I started painting my nails.  I blame it on the uniforms.  When a girl has to wear butt-ugly polyester every day, she’ll start going to ridiculous lengths to feel at least a little pretty.  In my case, I guess ridiculous lengths = nail polish and the occasional seamed stockings.