Irene's been drenching this part of Vermont for about twelve hours now. It's steady, uneventful, monsoon-type rain, as opposed to the more variable showers or thunderstorms we're used to.
In other words, it's dull. I'm almost looking forward to the tropical storm winds just to mix things up a little, even though it means we'll probably lose power. While we're still getting juice, though, I'm enjoying its benefits. The kettle's on, Pandora's pumping wartime tunes to my studio, and I'm knitting by the warm glow of CFLs.
Rose of England, because of the absurd number of stitches per row near the end, both feels like it's almost finished, and like I still have ages to go. I'm eight rows from the end, not counting the crocheted edging, but those eight rows contain a little over ten thousand stitches. That's almost an eighth of the total stitch count for the project.
I keep telling myself that the end result will be so awe-inspiring that it'll be worth the frustration of the end being so near and yet so far. I'm not sure I believe it, but I'm trying.
Tommy Dorsey is helping.