If you're not knitting, the terrorists win

(My mostly on-topic ramblings about knitting. And life in general. My life in specific.)

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Location: Indiana, United States

I'm a middle aged mother of 2 grown children and wife to a man who doesn't seem to mind my almost heroin-like yarn addiction. I spend my time writing, knitting, and generally stressing out.

Monday, October 28, 2013

Patient Zero

This bug is kicking my ass. And it's giving me the weirdest dreams...

I'm descending steps from the back door of my beach house (which I don't have) into the ocean (which I would never do). There is snow on the steps, but the water is warm and clear. As clear as it can be, being the ocean at night. The moon is shining through the water and it is a very lovely shade of blue. My dead brother is behind me, with his hand on my shoulder, guiding me. We go underwater, down the steps, and to the corner of the house. I am having no trouble breathing underwater (which I cannot do) and am not panicked by the fact that there is about 9 feet of water overhead (I very definitely would be panicked in water that deep). I look up in time to see the dark outline of a very large shark passing overhead. (Nope. Just nope.)

Now I'm a little frightened. I stop and start moving backward, backing up to the steps. My brother's hand is still on my shoulder and he says "Don't worry. He's not after you." Still, as soon as I reach the steps I turn and begin climbing them. My brother is gone. The snow is gone. The water recedes back to normal tide, with no sign of the shark. But in the distance, I can see a storm on the horizon of the water.

I hope I don't have ebola or something.


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