Cotton Rock

Okay… I’ve been quite busy lately and now we’re off and running into NaNoWriMo. Isn’t it the way it goes (predictably) that when the NoWri-ing begins the journaling seems urgent, attractive and painfully neglected – certainly in need of prompt tendering? It’s not just the journaling that screams out and demands attention when the NoWri-ing begins. It’s also the kitchen floor, the laundry, the dishes, the dog. Don’t you think I really need to go shopping for some winter wardrobe stuff? Perhaps those closets and cupboards need rearranging. Why do I run from it all so adamantly?

The rains began today and I went to pull the rain gear out of storage so I could take the Sweetness, the Honey Bee on morning ablutions (Ed’s at Zend Con so I have morning duty too) and I discovered I’d packed away all the winter things neatly in the armoire in the back cottage. Lovely sweaters and warm bulky things. Somewhere from there to here, unfortunately, I’ve developed some allergy or sensitivity to fleece. I’m wearing a fleece pullover now and my skin is crawling and hot and itchy. So much for that incredible softness – it’s all for naught when the reaction begins. I don’t have that reaction to the blankets – I wonder why just the clothes. (And of course that’s another thing urgently in need of pondering in the face of NaNoWri-ing.) And I have the same (worse?) reaction to wool – and there’s this craze around natural fabrics of late. I’m all about cotton. Cotton rocks.