I wish I could express myself in pictures. I wish I could show you what's going through my mind. Because it's not words. It's images. Do any of you tend to think in images or colors? When you think of a certain person, or place, do colors come into your mind rather than the actual person?
I feel like being deep. Reflective. Intellectual. Ya know? But that's probably just the vicodin talking. Speaking of which--- I can totally see how people get addicted to these things. I love them. So floaty. So relaxed. So mellow. So weepy. Oh dear. How did that get in there? I want to knit, but I'm afraid my fingers won't do what they're supposed to.
I had a dream about knitting last night. It was a requirement for a job, that I could make a cable knit sweater. I bluffed and said that of course I knew how to make a cableknit sweater. And then I went home and frantically searched through my pattern books. :) I also dreamed that I was watching someone knit, and their technique was so sloppy. I tried to show this person how to hold their yarn so that it worked through their fingers, rather than falling through their fingers, but they just didn't get it. Of course, I cast on and knit in the European fashion, rather than the American fashion, so I think that was why I was thinking that their method was sloppy.
But I think this whole post is rather vicodin induced. I'm so lonely. I want to be in Georgia. I want to be hanging out with my long time bestest friend. I want to be where my family is. I want to live where I can get good sweet tea. But as my dear husband tells me, to pick up and move to Georgia is too complicated. Too many details. Never mind that I'd be a whole heap happier down there. It's too complex. Stupid vicodin. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I don't do well with staying at home, sitting on a couch. Forgive me.