What happened to the five stitches...

Because this is my life, and nothing ever goes as one might expect, more than mere annoyance sprang from the situation with the five rogue stitches.

Sure, I did get the stitches under control, but that didn't mean my problem was solved at all. No, in fact, it just cemented the stress that was to come.

There are days when I wish I had real internet (it's on it's way) so that I could capture things on film (pixel?) so that all of you could see what I looked at last night, on the floor of my room...

To begin this tale, we must establish that I was brought coffee, a mocha, from a nearby coffee shop. This coffee was given to me during my last hour at work, and it contained extra shot(s) of expresso, something that my friends will tell you is a bad, bad idea.

You see, there's something called "stream of consciousness" that authors have used in the past, a mode of storytelling that is actually pretty similar to how I write these blogs, except the writers who use stream of consciousness aren't as focused as I am.

Usually.

But when I have too much caffiene, something happens to my brain. It starts to resemble the writings of Virginia Wolfe or even Jack Kerouac, in that there is no punctuation (in spoken language punctuation is implied by pauses or breaks in thought) or breathing or continuity of thought...

In fact, I end up interrupting myself with a new thought, because the new thought--oh wait not that one this one--is much more interesting than the one at the beginning.

So, fueled by coffee, I decided to fix the collar on my new vest, which was floppy. Also kind of too big.

This thought ended with me, a pair of sharp, sharp scissors, and my sweater.

Yes, I hacked a chunk out of that collar so fast, I didn't even fully have time to grasp the ramafications of such an action on, say, the seam that connected my collar to the sweater at large.

Envision me, kind readers, sitting on the floor of my room, surrounded by crinkly ramen noodle shaped bits of brown wool with the broken body of my sweater-collar ravaged on the ground before me. Oh, and I was watching the last episodes of Buffy, season seven.

So, the First was all being the source of all evil, and I was kicking sweater (clears throat).

No, it wasn't a tragedy, I did succeed in fixing the collar. I ripped a good chunk out of each side, took out the seam, then sewed it all back up so that the floppy went away and it looked right. And now I'm wearing it. And it looks good.

Someday, when I get fast internet...I'll show you how pretty it is. But those of you coming to Coffee D'Vine tonight won't have to wait!