Since it was an rainy day I decided that I should commence work on the Cthulhu purse. "The bathmitt," you cry. Well I'm awaiting some yellow yarn to make eyes with and then the prototype will be complete. I've decided for the final version to use Light Green (Elmore-Pisgah Peaches 'n Creme for those of you who are curious) for the bathmitt.

But I forget myself.

Here is the beginning of the purse of the Elder Ones.

Trust me it will be a purse that mighty Nyarlethotep will be pleased to carry over his shoulder in order to more easily stow howling sea beasts, large pieces of human intenstines (AKA a light snack), and a comb ( no reason not be tidy while thrusting the universe into chaos).

I've also made significant progress on the signature bunni sweater. On me it is more likely to end up a sweater dress, but that's ok I can live with it. Haven't finished the front yet, but I need to get more yarn anyway. The white fluff got used up much faster than I thought and so I need another ball of it before I begin the back.

Still hiding at Chez Lapin enjoying my mother's cable and a large kitchen with a gas stove. I haven't yet called about unemployment or the back pay. I hate to admit it, but I'm scared to do it. I know, I've survived cancer and an insane father and just about every heartbreaking failure and betrayal a girl can by my age, I've learned how to cope with chronic depression and anxiety (trust me I cope much better than I have in the past when I was contemplate throwing myself on the traacks of the six train on a daily basis), but this yep it just scares me.

I also think it's time to leave NYC. I've been saying this for years, but I was hoping that, well, I wouldn't leave like this. I thought that things might change-how happy I was to move here, how hard I worked to get here. I've always had trouble of letting things go even when they are painful or destructive.

How else can you explain how long I stayed in that job which I dreaded, which I hated?

But I think it is finally time to go. Find some other place. My mother ha ssuggested just for the winter that I go to Martha's Vineyard to write. It certainly would be isolated and cheap enough. Perhaps.

And there is a sick part of me that wants people to ask me not to go, to stay, for them. But I've lived so much of my life for other people.

I think I'll go back to crocheting while listening to the rain.