$70 for Crap on a Stick

Okay. I'm a thrifty shopper. You're never going to see me pay $70 for a sweater. Especially if it's for one of my kids. Hey, don't take that the wrong way. They're smaller. Nothing that small should have a price tag over $30 on it.

Anyway. I'm all about the thrift, as already mentioned, so I thought, hey. I've been getting into the knitting scene. Why don't I try to knit a good portion of the kids' winter clothes for next year? If I get a good head start on it, it shouldn't be too much work all at once.

The problem is, I wrote down a list of 2 or 3 sweaters I want to make for William. That, obviously is not counting the ones I want to make for George, or Nora, or God forbid, me. So, I decided to price out the yarn for the first sweater on William's list.

$70. And that's for a size that won't fit him next year. For the proper size, it'll probably be more like $80. That's just the yarn! I'd still have to make the dumb thing. Which implies, actually, that it probably wouldn't even look that great.

I think I'll stick to the buying route. And that is today's rant.

So, moving on to the real subject matter of this blog, I actually feel depressed tonight. Lol. Well, I guess, who wouldn't when you've just realized you could buy five sweaters and two pairs of pants at Target for the price of making one miserable-looking sweater yourself. I guess that's the price you pay for putting love (and sweat, and the kink in your neck) into your kids' clothes, yes? Whatever. Anyway, I hate feeling aimless. And tonight I feel aimless. It'd be different if there was something I wanted to do, but there's not. It's not just that there's nothing to do. It's that I can't think of anything I would want to do. There's depression for you, I guess. *eye roll*

I got to work out today. It was disappointing. I read something in Women's Health about how the "fat burning zone" isn't all that great after all, and if you want to blast the calories, then you should blast your workout. So I abandoned my friendly neighborhood elliptical for the mean old scary treadmill. And I ran for the first time since before I was married. Well, actually, that's if you don't count me racing to catch children attempting to plunge to their death from, like, the couch. Anyway. It was disappointing because I only burned 131 calories, and my average heart rate sucked. And all I had to show for it was a nasty headache. Yeah. The post-workout happy feelings didn't even try to turn up for that show. Those fair-weather jerks.

So, today: BOO. Here's to tomorrow. Sun, would you please try to shine in the Midwest tomorrow? Just a little bit?