I took the boys' clothes over to DH's house and then got back in my car and started driving. It was about the time that I got to the square that I realized, "What am I doing?" I drove around the square and drove back home. And here I am...
I don't like being worried. I want to send a text to find out how he's doing. But I can't. I want to send an email. But I won't. I want to so terribly, but I won't. I dread this is his last couple of days with his daughter, and I'm not going to interupt that... Even if he's not checking his email.
So I'll sit here, watch TV and knit. I'm working on the pocket that goes on the front of the sweater. I'm thinking of finishing it, sewing it to the front and then stuffing it with Cellas. What good is a pocket if there's nothing worthwhile inside? Sure, I'd love for my hands to be inside, but... Big sigh.
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