Destination Procrastination

The last two weeks leading up to the big exams make a wonderful opportunity to avoid doing some much-needed revision. The extent of this lead up to me having my coil removed and replaced yesterday. I was expecting an afternoon of horrendous cramping, instead I went to the library. Damn.

Let rip-ple

So I have a handy piece of plastic ensuring that I stay baby-free for up to 5 years. I am at the stage where I know I definitely want to sprog in about 2 to 3 years so hopefully it won’t stay in there for the full amount of time. That said, when I imagine myself as a pregnant person, I worry that I am not patient enough to make it through the uncomfortable third trimester and sometimes I literally shudder internally at the thought.

Onto the blanket for the non-existant offspring and I haven’t been giving it too much attention as the weather suddenly became awesome and I didn’t fancy doing any crochet, but I am getting a better idea of how the finished product will look and every time I see it, I’m reminded of the spring colours outside, and I wish I had more time to devote to it.

I managed to rustle up a quick project in the form of a laptop case using some nice acrylic yarn. It isn’t finished yet, but I’m really pleased with the colour, pattern and the fact that it took no time at all to complete. I just have to line it, make a flap, add buttons et voilà. Pictures to follow.

Book-wise, I was less than impressed with “This is not the story you think it is” by Laura Munson. I really wanted to like this book. I really tried. The story in brief: husband tells wife he no longer loves her and wasn’t sure he ever did. Instead of flying off the handle heartbroken and defiant, wife remains calm and gives husband space to sort himself out, thus making him responsible for his emotions. Her essay in the NY Times attracted such a response that they closed off comments, and after reading the article I ordered the book.

After only 67 pages, I gave up and I don’t know if I could go back to it, I just found the prose so difficult to engage with, partly because the author spends so much time (and pages) in making a single point, I didn’t really want to ride out the long, meandering narrative. I was massively intrigued with the original essay, but it just didn’t suit me as a book.

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Back to work. After I’ve stirred some onions which I have left to caramelise.