I turned the lights out around midnight again, slept well, wrote morning pages and was too late for yoga yet again. I had breakfast, knitted a bit, read, played silly games, talked with my husband about feminism and gender at length (very positive conversation), called my mother on the phone who told me to make sure the skirt I’m making is wide enough and then spent twenty minutes on the sewing machine before lunch. I had reached the stage where it finally feels like you’re making an actual garment, I sewed all the skirt panels together.
Then there was comida casera, rice, beans and fish:
We talked some more which was really nice, I did the dishes right away (well, the ones I could because all the pots were still full because the boy hadn’t eaten yet), took a pretty long break and went back to the sewing machine. It turned out that the skirt had stretched out and didn’t fit the waistband but I made yet another row of stitches (next to the stay stitching) and gathered the fabric a bit.
By then my husband had reached the stage of packing where he wandered in and out of the living room constantly. Around five he asked for the weather forecast so he could determine what clothes to pack. I looked again. Over the past two weeks the predicted weather for this week had become worse and worse. And now it is supposed to rain the whole time with lower temperatures than I thought.
So I made the executive decision to stop sewing and pack a pair of jeans instead. Which I did. I sorted the big pile of things on the spare bed, compared it to my packing list, charged all the things and was mostly packed by seven with a generous dinner break at 5.30.
I did Duolingo, started writing this post, watched some C-drama, did not do the dishes and went to bed.
By the time you read this we might already be on the train to Verona. I am very under-prepared, I know nothing about Verona and what to do and see there but then my husband knows a little more and we’ll figure it out.
Leave a Reply