Wednesday night I did not sleep well, anticipating two days of burly men with tools making big changes to my house. Thinking thoughts like, They said they would be here at 7:30 but last night was fireworks night so they might be late how late can they be before I call and complain what if there was a miscommunication and they aren't coming at all and I've wasted two vacation days what if they need to use the bathroom I'd better clean them wish I had fixed the toilet that runs it's too easy to just turn off the water when you live alone and have two bathrooms they will probably need to get into the attic and under the house but the accesses to both are in the garage and the garage is so full of crap I'll need to clear some stuff out of their way at least I took a shower tonight but what if I'm on the john when they arrive I hate making big changes to the house it feels like I am compromising the basic integrity of the structure and it is going to cost so much but I've been saving my bonus just for this and I was without heat a couple of times last winter and the AC unit is 35 years old but what if I lose my job and need that money to keep from eating cat food and becoming homeless....
Etc. etc. and so forth....
(Three in the morning is the perfect time to "musterbate" and "awfulize" every cotton pickin' little thing. A co-worker says one of my super powers is the ability to worry about anything and everything. I've been working on this - better living through hypnotism - but sometimes the mind demands free rein.)
After sleepwalking through Thursday, I decided I needed a little pharmaceutical help to sleep that night, so I took one Excedrin PM. (I've learned that two is one too many.) And with no AC, I opened the windows and turned the ceiling fan on high to stir the air. Sleeping conditions were actually quite pleasant... until 2:00am when I was awakened by the doorbell and someone shouting outside.
First thought: Must be a prank. This is a very quiet, staid neighborhood for the most part and middle-of-the-night disturbances are rare. Second thought: Maybe the house is on fire. This has happened to me before, someone ringing my doorbell to tell me my house was burning. So I get up, then realize my sleeping attire is not what one should answer the door while wearing. Find robe, then creep up to the front door and peek out the window to see just what is going on. (Note to self: Keep a baseball bat by front door for future middle-of-the-night visitors.)
By now, the visitor was across the street, banging on their door and yelling, so I (perhaps foolishly) opened my door and stepped out on the porch and started yelling, too. What's going on? The twenty-something guy, wearing nothing but shorts and tattoos and carrying a backpack, came running back, asking me to call the police because his "significant other" had attacked him. He held out his hands to show me, but since he was still in the yard and it was dark, I couldn't see anything unusual (like blood). Then he starts running back down the street. Wait, what's your address? Why don't you stay here? He gave me a house number (of which he was uncertain) and took off.
I closed the door (and locked it!) and got the phone and then debated. If this were a prank, I doubt he would have been running from house to house, shouting for help. He didn't seem drunk or high. If the address was the house I was thinking of, several young people had been having a good time there this past week but nothing over-the-top. So I dialed 911, but then disconnected, still not sure about the whole thing because it just didn't feel right. (Later, I surmised it might not have felt right because it didn't happen the way it would have been portrayed in the movies or on tv. Not enough angst or something.)
If you call 911 and hang up, they call you back. I explained the whole thing to the dispatcher, and she said they would send someone around to see what was what. Still clutching the phone, I then parked myself by the bedroom window, to see what I could see, which wasn't much. Some (police?) cars (and an ambulance?) drove down the next street over, but I couldn't see where they were going. Then a cruiser came down my street and stopped in front of my house. I went back outside and the (very short) officer (don't they have a height requirement at the police department?) said they found the guy and did I have anything to add to what I had told the dispatcher? I tried to get some details from him but nada.
Of course, getting back to sleep after all that was next to impossible. And since the worker bees were going to do the attic work in the morning, they wanted to start even earlier. So Friday I was not much perkier than Thursday. But I did manage to do some ironing (a huge rarity but actually a pleasant chore since I chose to do it in the Florida room which was cool and clean for a change) and I applied several Minwax products to the andirondack chairs I had bought (cheap!) from Joann earlier this season. ("Natural" stain is a synonym for "nearly invisible" stain, but it did make a difference.) And I watched "The Pursuit of Happyness."
As to more knitterly topics, I finished the "no hair day" chemo hat, but it seems more like a candidate for What Not to Knit. For one thing, I chose to make a size large but did not swatch (the it-will-fit-somebody philosophy) and it really is large. I envisioned a salt-and-pepper result but it turned out quite stripey (which is why Fun Fur calls the colorway "Stripes" you dope!) When I modeled it for my daughter, she said it looks like a shower cap, and my SO likened it to a wig from SNL.
But today, while trying to photograph it in all its hideous glory, I realized that it doesn't look so bad when it is not pulled down as far as possible, so if someone (with a very large head) wears it more wiglike, i.e. so the bottom edge lines up with where one's hairline would be (if one had hair), it doesn't look too bad.
Or does it? Your honest opinion please!