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Brewer Burns

Thursday, December 14, 2006

I Fell On Strange Days*

Good god. People are strange. I blame the holidays. And, since this is the holiday season, and I too am strange, here’s my strange list of the day:

1. I met a woman last night who made a remark that I believed to be scornful of the idea of knitting socks. Now, in the dwindling light of the next day, I can’t decide if she was actually being scornful of the idea or if she was simply intimidated by the idea.

2. I refuse to knit with two strands held together. I just won’t do it. Need proof? Both Norberta and Center Square are supposed to be worked with two strands held together. Did I do that? No. (I finished knitting the pieces to Norberta last night, and swatched for Center Square.)

3. For some reason, I also refuse to actually buy enough yarn to finish my project. At the moment, I can’t find another skein of yarn in town in the same color LP to finish my BIL’s Fuzzy Feet. Why do I do this to myself? (Because I’m cheap.)

4. I ran into a guy that I went to law school with in the courthouse today. We talked about the fact that neither of us know what we’re doing.

5. It irks me ever so slightly every time that someone (usually a complete stranger) refers to me as “Miss” Burns. “Ms.” Burns would be the politically correct term. “Mrs.” Burns would, at the very least, be accurate. I am not nor have I ever been “Miss” Burns. And if you don’t know, then you should err on the side of political correctness. Say it with me people:

“I will not refer to women whose marital status or preference of address is unknown to me as Miss or Mrs. I will instead use the proper, neutral, term: ‘Ms.’ ”

6. You know how sometimes you can see exactly how wrong a particular plan is going to go and then it does and you feel like you’re standing on the one stable piece of ground as everything else falls in around you? Yeah. I’ve been there too.

7. Yesterday morning I literally could not get a brush through my hair. (My solution to this problem: bun.)

8. On Tuesday night I was the only person in my office at 4:40 p.m. when someone walked in. As I walked out to greet him the thought running through my mind was: This guy is going to kill me. (It was the courier and obviously, he didn’t kill me.)

9. I spend a lot of my time, in my life generally, and especially in my job, trying to disappear. The result? Today, the judge forgot all about me and my motion as I waited patiently (in the very back row, pretending to be part of the bench I was sitting on.) (When I was finally the last person in the room he asked me what I was waiting on.)

10. I am a complete crackpot.

*with apologies to Sound Garden for misappropriating and modifying their title.

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