Needlepoint and Strange Conversations

I knew it. I knew the time my mom gave me a needlepoint craft for my birthday I would be addicted to it again. Once I get started on these kinds of projects, it’s hard for me to stop. I remember finishing one big 18×18 cross-stitch project. It took me four months to finish.

I will never tire. I will never wane. I will finish the project no matter what. No matter how my fingers hurt. No matter how I squint through the dim light. No matter how my back hurts from crouching. No matter how many countless hours I’d be at it. I will finish this project. No. Matter. What.

Last night, it took me four hours to calm down from my excitement starting on this project. By that time, Luci had come home and I was ready to sleep at 6:30 AM and get up at 12 noon. *sigh* Crazy schedules.

In other news, Luci and I went to eat at a nearby Burger Station and started talking about philosophy/Christanity/death/pre-destiny mix over a mushroom burger and steak fingers. The grease must have triggered it. Or probably the two toy salesmen and the promoting pizza guy (Who in the hell gives out pizza for a small fee in a burger restaurant?? Odd, I tell you!) that came in a few minutes after we sat down. I’ll probably never know.

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