the yarn must flow

The past three days have been amazingly fabulous for knitting (excepting, of course, this morning, when I thought all my internal organs were trying to escape out my nose and my mouth in the form of greenish yellow goo. But I'm better now). Sunday morning I woke up to the abominable (but rather pretty) snowstorm, and a very irate roommate with a cancelled flight (I kept my personal opinions about beautiful snowstorms to myself). But a snowstorm! A perfect excuse to hide inside, drink hot chocolate, and get cracking on the Christmas knitting (although we did venture briefly out for some shopping. Because we were apparently caught with the crazy.) (You know, I really hate it when people over and misuse parenthetical phrases. I am a filthy hypocrite and will go knit with fun fur to punish myself).

Yesterday I was complaining about the lack of new and exciting movies just sitting around the apartment, and lo and behold my roommate pulls out the special edition director's cut of the TV miniseries Dune and says, "Here, watch this. I'm not taking it home with me." Then she went off on her rescheduled flight and left me alone with the crack. I watched the whole thing, and when it was over I went and found the sequel, Children of Dune, on YouTube. Then I stayed up way too late watching it and woke up this morning with the aforementioned ailment. That, of course, probably had nothing to do with what I was watching or how late I was watching it, but for some reason I am feeling slightly resentful towards the engrossing storyline and the crazy costuming and feel better blaming the miniseries, which makes absolutely no sense, but I don't care. As a brief critical note, however, I must say, the sequel went a bit overboard with the storylines and a bit underboard with the explaining-what-happened. But I watched the whole thing anyway.

Now, this weekend, when I go home, I will most likely rush down to my parents' basement, where I know the Dune series is lurking, and try to read them. Part of me is very excited about it, and the other part fully expects to find them just as uninteresting as I did the other eighty bajillion times I tried to read them. Oh the difficulties I face! I really don't know how I bear it all.