"And don't grow tired of listening to me, because it's all for your own good."

... that's what that mean old man said to me. that mean old Mr. George W. he's got a mean old hand, he does.

here i am, stitching away ever so stitchily, got two and one-third stars done on moldy gray, like, totally off-white thread... and it's all cold and cruddy in here! i mean, seriously, with all this darkness all around me, how am i supposed to tell a decent yarn?

Mittens has nearly caught hisself a frightful, chilly cold; and i'm just barely making ado with myself here. the Finnish maid-servant brought me some icky curdled, but, you know...

ick.

that mean old Mr. George W. (and you wouldn't believe what he's charging me per yard for this yarn.)

here's a picture of an unhappy puppy (not my Mittens!)...