Do weekends make you time travel to Monday?

Or maybe they just exist in worm holes of time, where they force to you speed through them, even though your perception doesn't accept this possibility and you only see the weekend as a regular two days until you get to the end of it. Where did the weekend go? I swear it was Saturday just ten minutes ago...

Weekends always go by so quickly when you aren't paying attention, which is something I do quite often. I got my hair cut with Em on Saturday morning, but it took much longer than we thought because Sean (the woman we go to) was very busy. By the time we got home four hours later, my mom decided she didn't want to go grocery shopping and tempted me into going with her to hit some craft stores and see what was there. Michael's made a good moving choice, but a bad redecorating decision. The aisles were narrow, none of the sections were in any kind of organized, and the way traffic flowed through the store, it jams easily and no one can move. So we found the knitting stuff way in the back corner, were disappointed by the lack of good yarn, and then were disappointed by the lack of sock needles. TOTAL lack.

So we mosied on over to A.C.Moore and browsed their just-as-busy, smaller, more navigable store and mom got some sock needles for the Strikke along. I had to get a cablestitch holder for my clessidra socks, and I did.

Yesterday I cleaned my room while mom and dad went grocery shopping. Then I sat around and did nothing. It was a nice, peaceful day.

Well, I must go do a few loads of laundry because I need clean work clothes. I don't think they'll like me showing up dirty. Ew.

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