This is the only ruler I could find with inches as well as centimeters. Guess I'd better stop letting my son play with my tape measure. (But at least I scored some "Vertmont" maple syrup.)
The water in our shower is merely tepid; to get it to the temperature I like, I have to get out of the shower, drip across the floor, flush the toilet, and then hop back into the shower to enjoy a few hot minutes.
Italian potato chips seem to be uniformly slightly stale.
Few of our Tupperwares have matching lids, and of those that do, the lids still don't stay on.
At the supermarket, plastic shopping bags cost a few cents each. It wouldn't matter, except that hardly anyone seems to buy them; they bring their own, or they just pile everything into their cart without bags, and then pile everything into their car trunk in the parking garage--or else they buy one bag and stuff it to overflowing. Which makes me feel like a spendthrift for spending ten or fifteen cents on a few sacchi di plastico. (I don't throw them away! I would re-use them, but I keep forgetting to put them back in my car after I put the groceries away.)
My husband bought me the Malo cashmere sweater pictured at left. I love it--that's not the problem. But look at how horrifically it's pilling!
My pocket-sized camera, a Canon PowerShot SD20 (don't buy one!) thinks it's a computer and keeps freezing up. I have to take the battery out to reboot it. Sooner or later I'm sure it will break down completely.
Three of my four watches need new batteries.
I hate working out. Especially that infernal leg extension machine.
I hate wearing mascara, but my eyelashes are short and sparse. Usually I still don't wear mascara.
With no impending deadlines, I'm not getting anything done on the swatches and ideas I have percolating.
At least I've made a start on my own Sherwood. I'm not sure yet whether I'll make it into a sweater, or into a sleeveless jumper; I'm tempted to do the latter, but remain dubious about knitted skirts in general. I wish I could knit faster.