Camomile Tea,

So, currently I'm sat in my bed with a cup of camomile tea, half a blanket and a tub full of patches of wool. Am I constructing a blanket? No, I'm taking one apart.

I started making this "thing" when I was fourteen, which I always think of as not very long ago until I realise that I am in fact now twenty and no longer able to class myself as a teenager. Anyway. The bottom half is a bit scraggly to say the least, since I wasn't overly dexterous at that age, and I was pathetically bad at knitting. My short attention span is also evident since the patches are teeny tiny. Fast forward six years and they are all large beautiful, if not oddly shaped, patches.

So what was the problem?

My blanket was almost a fricking triangle. Seriously, the top was AT LEAST six inches wider than the bottom, sothe natural OCD like thing to do is take the whole thing apart.

Now, you may wonder why I'm telling you this.

I'm telling you this to describe the frame of mind that I'm currently in, because I feel that is more constructive than once again apologising for the lack of another of my novels on amazon. For those who care, okay, I'm sorry, but I'm getting on it. Honestly.