On a roll

This has been an extraordinarily good week.
First good thing:
Tuesday I quit my job at the call center.
Out of anger and frustration and fed-up-ness.
I've never been overly fond of it, but it has offered me the flexibility needed to follow courses at the university while working a full week (as needed in order to feed cats and pay rent and buy a bit of yarn now and then). And I've liked a lot of my colleagues. A lot.
And most of the time I've really enjoyed helping the people calling.
Although not the incredibly rude and aggressive ones.
But the pay has been bad, the environment less than charming, and it has been rather draining and tiring. And to make matters worse we got a new so-called team leader a few months ago.
A very ambitious 23-years old girl. And she wants the best team, she says. But only with regards to quantity not quality.
She shows absolutely no knowledge of how to lead or motivate - nor any respect or consideration for neither her colleagues nor her team members.
And Thursday I finally got fed up. Probably as I found no reason in being asked to explain my lack of efficiency in the two weeks following the endoscopy-gone-bad.
I've been told never to quit a job on impulse or in anger. But it felt rather good.
At least until I started worrying. The next day.

But then all tests showed great improvement in the pancreatic and spleenish areas. That is good thing number two, by the way.

Good thing number three: The library finally got me Lace Style.

And number four: Today I dragged my monster of a king-size duvet to the laundromat for its pre-winter washing.
And listened to Bach and knit a bit while watching it whirl around, trying not to think about my being nearly unemployed in less than a month.
And so tonight I have a perfectly clean and fragrant duvet.
And I gave a nice, elderly woman a good laugh as I tried in vain to make the duvet fit into the centrifuge. Not possible. But a good clown-act - and thus good thing number four and a half.

And I do indeed have a new job. That is good thing number five.
Years ago I worked with an investment bank. It was my very first real real job.
Working full-time, 9-5 (or rather 7-21, as it became most days).
And I loved it. During the first two years I took only one day off, and I missed my colleagues. That's how much I loved it.
Until ... I fell in love with a young man I met at a yoga retreat, my step-father was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and suddenly working so much wasn't as fun as it could be. And had been. Of course I had also been burning the candle at both ends for far too long.
And when everything seems to close in on you, well,... I decided the one thing I could change was my job and so I did. There were other reasons. Of course.
But it's a place I've been proud of having been employed with.
And it was, and still is, my favourite job ever. And sometimes I miss it.
And this afternoon I got a call from them asking if I would like to come back, part time, my terms. They understand I have courses and exams.
Of course they would like me to start Monday, but with a bit of work Tuesday should be possible.

I really wish I could have a glass of wine to celebrate. But in a few weeks that should once again be possible.

Oh, yes. Good thing number ...six. My hyacinths, which I have for too long left for dead yet not quite remembered to throw out, have decided to give me a repeat performance.

I just wonder if I should make them little paper hats as you see in photos.
But you never see hyacinths with paper hats in nature, so they should be able to do what they do - without accessories.

Oh yes, I've started knitting the jacket from Norsk Strikkedesign. I'm nearly done with the sleeve. And I'm besotted.

My choice of colours is quite different from the original, and I want to make it into a tunic rather than a jacket. I don't do jackets much. Coats yes, but jackets and cardigans not so much. And I like something I can just slip over my head without fiddling with buttons.
It's very addictive knitting.
So far there's only a tiny bit of puckering and unevenness, but I don't care too much. I still look at it and pet it a bit and feel very proud for being able to manage more than one colour yarn at a time, and for mustering the courage to start it.
And I think I read somewhere that in the good old days they didn't give a f*ck about a bit of puckering here and there as it would all even itself out once given a good wash. I hope it's right. And not just something I dreamt.
And, as I said, there really isn't too much of that anyway.
That has to be good thing number seven.