Men cannot aim.
Indeed, their ability to aim is so desperately impaired that I think it's quite amazing that they don't accidentally put out an eye when combing their hair on a regular basis. It's not like we have a little miniature toilet, either--it's full-sized and frankly, I'm the only reason the INSIDE of it ever needs cleaning. Sadly, I think a wading pool would still not provide an ample enough target for the aim-challenged creatures with whom some of us have chosen to live.
And yet...they give them guns.
Which brings me to a thought. A friend of mine very helpfully offered me the wisdom "what would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?" And I think this is, indeed, very wise and certainly leads one to consider loftier goals and ambitions and reminds one that nothing much can be accomplished without risk and so on and so forth. But today was a toilet-cleaning day (or rather, the area AROUND the toilet) and so my ability to absorb wisdom has been surgically removed and replaced with caustic wit (rather like another friend of mine who pointed out that if everyone lived every day as if it were their last, no one would ever do the laundry or pay the rent). I do not think of myself as a cynical person in general....but you know, there are those things that tax us. Here is my "bathroom cleaning day"list of things I would attempt if I knew I could not fail (it's probably much nicer on other days):
1. (Of course) Teach husband to pee IN toilet.
2. Withdraw 1 million dollars from my bank account without unpleasant repercussions (no, I do not actually have 1 million dollars...that's why it's something that has to wait until I know I cannot fail. Right now I would fail abysmally).
3. Make chocolate the national food.
4. Wear capri pants without looking like a gnome on stilts. Wearing floods.
5. Purchase a self-cleaning house.
6. Mow lawn while seated in the house knitting.
7. Have brains implanted in all our political leaders.
8. Cast on precisely the correct number of stitches...the first time. Or even the second.
9. Cover the bed in cashmere yarn and roll around in it naked. (Hey, we all have dreams.)
10. Teach husband the powerful secret of separating toothpaste globbies from sink enamel before the two substances become one and the same.
11. Disable the pine needle magnets that exist in all of our rugs, and which are apparently significantly stronger immediately after I've vacuumed.
12. Make two more or less identical socks.
13. Learn the physics of cat barf and feet so as to just once find it VISUALLY first.
14. Shave hair from legs instead of skin.
15. Teach husband the challenging mechanics of running water and dirty spoon. Or glass with milk and warm room for three days. Or damp laundry and mildew fairies. Or....
16. Convince advertising executives the world over that I have two brain cells to rub together and actually do find a few things more compelling than bright white clothes or shiny dishes.
Yeah, I know. Some dreams are beyond even the power of genies. On the brighter side, check out the mosaic sock:
The pattern changes to plain stripes on the foot (so it won't be bulky), which actually looks good in person--even though it looks a little weird in the photo. It looks better in this next one:
And Charity, it's the Ceaser's Check sock from Charlene Schurch's wonderful book "Sensational Socks", worked in Koigu. I wish it photographed better because it's so much prettier in person. I'll have to add "take picture that bears some sort of resemblance to the actual subject" to that list.
Gracie, of course, has no such worries...:
...having long since realized that everything done by a cat is perfect anyway.....