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Bad, bad jigsaw
Jan. 31st, 2024 06:02 pm Daughter is a bit sick- a lot of sneezing, a bit of coughing. Last Saturday she had to take care of the sick passengers who wanted back to Stockholm, luckily her job was done, when all of them where inside the plane, and started again, when three of them got brought back out, which caused a delay of almost two hours. Not so lucky was that this day had been a cold one, and she had forgotten scarf and uniform cap, hence the cold she has now. Daughter decided to stay for another night at Hotel Mama, and we finally started the first of the jigsaws I got as Christmas presents. I decided upon the 1000 pieces jigsaw, which in hindsight might have not been the best choice, because I overread the warning "hard to solve". We sat almost two hours in the cool conservatory doing the border only- and still haven´t found the missing piece, after three rounds of sorting. Neigh impossible that we could have missed this one!
I had hoped for a repeat of a sleep-all-through-the-night but woke at four in the morning, because I had laughed out so loud in my dream that I woke myself. Glorfindel-centric, as often, but why this elf always shows up when it´s about needlework I do not know. Once it was him being a tour guide, leading tourists down to the valley of Imladris by a giant moving staircase, while he happily knitted a scarf. People wandered listening to his tales while doing the same, because it got colder the longer they wandered. Imladris itself had been a winter wonder land, hence the scarfs. This time I met Glorfindel at a reading of works of Stefan Zweig, where he drew circles that were more than imperfect but got beautifully decorated with twigs by him, I swam in the river Salzach and had a hard time to get out of it, before I landed in the flat I grew up, where I found a baby blanket I had crocheted once, with a notification that all who did this blanket would get murdered. And indeed, I found more than one murder report in the dailies. I hid the blanket at the top of our old farmhouse wardrobe, the one with the beautiful paintings on it, then on to the sports centre it wasin a police car, where Glorfindel, the drafter of the crocheting pattern, lived- in a tent next to the river (Elrond must have chucked him out, no wonder, he needed a warrior, not a needlework fetishist). When I told him about the threats and the murders, he brought out the pink blanket he had brought with him from Gondolin and tried to hide it on the top of the tent, which crashed, and that was when I woke. I really should write all those dreams down and show it to a psychiatrist. Then again, I love to roam free...
Tomorrow I will start the Super Bowl food run. Daughter might join me this year, so food for two and a half, the half is for husband mine, who never makes it beyond the two AM mark. Daughter wants a foorball helmet with snacks in it. Not a chance, I won´t be at the shop at 7:40 in the morning. Last year helmets where sold out a few minutes later. People left the shops with ten or more of them. At eight in the morning there was a helmet inflation on Ebay, at twice the price, of course. I am pretty sure that this year won´t be that much different. Other sellers, maybe, because a lot of the old ones got banned, but the proceedings will be the same...
I had hoped for a repeat of a sleep-all-through-the-night but woke at four in the morning, because I had laughed out so loud in my dream that I woke myself. Glorfindel-centric, as often, but why this elf always shows up when it´s about needlework I do not know. Once it was him being a tour guide, leading tourists down to the valley of Imladris by a giant moving staircase, while he happily knitted a scarf. People wandered listening to his tales while doing the same, because it got colder the longer they wandered. Imladris itself had been a winter wonder land, hence the scarfs. This time I met Glorfindel at a reading of works of Stefan Zweig, where he drew circles that were more than imperfect but got beautifully decorated with twigs by him, I swam in the river Salzach and had a hard time to get out of it, before I landed in the flat I grew up, where I found a baby blanket I had crocheted once, with a notification that all who did this blanket would get murdered. And indeed, I found more than one murder report in the dailies. I hid the blanket at the top of our old farmhouse wardrobe, the one with the beautiful paintings on it, then on to the sports centre it wasin a police car, where Glorfindel, the drafter of the crocheting pattern, lived- in a tent next to the river (Elrond must have chucked him out, no wonder, he needed a warrior, not a needlework fetishist). When I told him about the threats and the murders, he brought out the pink blanket he had brought with him from Gondolin and tried to hide it on the top of the tent, which crashed, and that was when I woke. I really should write all those dreams down and show it to a psychiatrist. Then again, I love to roam free...
Tomorrow I will start the Super Bowl food run. Daughter might join me this year, so food for two and a half, the half is for husband mine, who never makes it beyond the two AM mark. Daughter wants a foorball helmet with snacks in it. Not a chance, I won´t be at the shop at 7:40 in the morning. Last year helmets where sold out a few minutes later. People left the shops with ten or more of them. At eight in the morning there was a helmet inflation on Ebay, at twice the price, of course. I am pretty sure that this year won´t be that much different. Other sellers, maybe, because a lot of the old ones got banned, but the proceedings will be the same...
