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It’s Saturday and I am surfing emotions like a discarded plastic bag threatening turtles in the sea of life.  On one hand, I am attending an auction this morning: we have jumped through seemingly endless hoops in preparation, double-checking everything, arranging paperwork and generally trying to find time and strength to obey bureaucratic stipulations around a hectic fulltime job.  And the worst part is that we have no way of knowing whether we’ll get the place: our maximum could easily be well below everyone else’s and we’ll be out of the running almost immediately.

On the other hand, I don’t have to do any Masters degree work!  It’s all done! Forever! (Hopefully.)  I can’t even begin to describe how happy this makes me: I nearly got up extra early to spend some time thinking about how happy I was at having so much free time.

On the other other hand, I am having lunch with some beloved people at a favourite cafe in town.  This is one of my favourite things ever.  On the other other other hand, I have to work all afternoon. Work is crashing towards its annual end-of-financial-year climax, with the exuberance and chaos of a percussion-only orchaestra for meth freaks, and so working weekends is a regular threat.

In the midst of nerves and crashing cymbals, only one thing can be certain.  The firmness of the cabled cast-on, the springiness of 2×2 ribbing, and the soft orderliness of two centimetres of stockinette.  Pictures soon.  Still trying to find the camera in my post-masters fizz: I suspect it may have gone the way of my sense of time.  Unless it’s at the bottom of the washing basket, in which case I expect to see it in a few days, when I finally get through the washing.

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