I feel like, given the available time I have, I should be able to update everyday. However, the paradox of blogging is that whenever your life is full of share-worthy events, it is too full to find time to write, and whenever you have time to write, it is because nothing worth sharing is happening. Case in point:
I started knitting on Christmas, made a sloppy 3-inch-long scarf, tore it off the needles and decided to start over. That was in March. I went to buy new yarn on Wednesday. While I was in the yarn aisle, I also saw this pillow case set that you embroider, so I bought that too. So I've been pretending I am 80 years old, what with the partying, "strenuous activity," and energy being OUT and fatigue and total boring empty Oxford being totally IN. One more week and I won't be living in fear of bursting my spleen. But I'm not exactly sure that's going to help with the subject matter. Or, you know, lack thereof.