I'm so $%*!#$* domestic!

I'm nearly done with the main body of the shawl for the Cinnamon Grace. Jorie might actually get this in the mail for her birthday. I spent my lunch break yesterday working on it at Pret-a-Manger (the one on Broadway south of Wall Street) and nearly finished the decrease section.



A story: I'm happily knitting at Pret, and one of my (soon to be former) bosses walks in. He looks at me and says "You look so domestic."



The guy sitting to my right snorts, turns to me and says "Yeah, you should put that on a t-shirt: 'I'm f***ing domestic, what's it to you?" in a THICK New York accent. "You could make a million dollahs, no time."



Yep, through t-shirt sales, ladies and gentelmen. $1 million, cold hard cash. I've obviously been in the wrong business all my life.



A few minutes later a woman walks up to me and asks me for my card, because she wants to commission a hand knit something or other. I let her know that I don't have one, and I don't really like to knit on commission, as it is a pain in the butt, very expensive, and a pain in the butt.



Her reply, "How much would that scarf cost? $50 or $60 dollars?"



I fight valiantly to not roll my eyes. "How about a minimum of $500 dollars?"



Yeah. It would be $50 or $60 if I were paying myself a whopping $1.25 an hour.



And that doesn't include materials.



All in all, an interesting day. (And I didn't even tell you about the water coming down my wall at work, and the various other insanities I've been dealing with)



As a capper to this rather odd, post, I offer you The Surfing Sheep which was brought to me this morning by Clara Parkes and The Knitter's Review newsletter.