Thursday, December 16, 2004

I want to cry. I really, really want to cry. My mother's stole, the lace one I was making for her for Christmas. The one with over 300 rows, and I had less than 25 rows left. It's now the one that one of my children was playing with when I foolishly left it on the sofa and went upstair. It's now the stole in which several stitches have dropped an undeterminable amount of rows, and I'm not even sure how to fix it. Today is December 16. I have 8 days to figure out what to do, and to still finish my sister's gift, which is not even halfway completed. Add to that the inventory data entry that I'm doing for Joan at Heritage, due on the 20th, the freelance illustration work that I'm doing for another friend, the housework that is rapidly piling up, the holiday visits, a sister-in-law's graduation, and the aforementioned two children and... well... yeah. Life is sucking pretty hard right now. I have no money to buy my mother a present. This was all I had.


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