I've been working with metal. I don't have the scraps I want to work with, but I have foil and mesh and rods and stuff to work on, and we'll see what the results look like. As per usual in this sort of medium, I have variously punctured fingers. But I was brave! I went out of the house!
In other injuries,
( there is a possibly icky explanation of why I was bitching about my foot. )I am frightfully oppressed by my husband. You see, we were in the Home Depot (in which we bought a large flowerpot, a soldering iron, and two random bits of copper piping) and waiting on line for the register. Home Depot has little random checkout line impulse buy items near the registers, including, at this one, rainbow-coloured string, which he inspected carefully. He turned to me and said, with I thought excessive solemnity, "Twine."
"Goes by?"
"What?"
"So slowly?"
He made a face at me. When we got out into the parking lot he complained about my sense of pun, to which I could only reply, "But twine can do so much!"
At this point he started threatening me with the flogger. I told him I'd have to tell
suzimoses, so there. (Consider yourself informed about Kevin's activities, dearheart.)
Wow, it's nearly four-thirty. This is probably a sign I should go to bed.