A touch of the old ennui has settled on me and it’s making it hard for me to write. It was tugging at my coattails during the Olympics, perched on my shoulders shortly afterward and is now sprawled out like a stole around my neck.

You know it’s pretty bad when complete strangers notice it, which has happened this week.

I’m not really sure what to do about it. It’s not really all that bad. It’s just there. It doesn’t seem to want to be dislodged.

I should go take some pictures or something, get out of the house and do something, or make something or something. I can’t help thinking that the things I do are just a distraction from what’s always there.

But I should stop whining. What I really should do is finish knitting this pair of gloves:

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If they take more than about four hours to finish I would be surprised, but they’ve been on the needles for a very long time. I kind of lost steam.

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