I don’t think it’s just been Rudi and me. I think the cats must be at least partially responsible for some of it.

I don’t think it’s all going to get cleaned. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. It will give Rudi’s student who is cat sitting for us realistic expectations of how life will and won’t change after graduation. (All friends who have ever seen my college rooms will appreciate that you can actually walk through the whole apartment.)

Today I wandered through the Adams Morgan Day festivities — ate some Indian food ($3 bought me a gigantic samosa and a mango lassi) — before returning home to realize that it was Sept. 11.

Four years have passed. For someone who was not directly affected by loss of family or friends, it seems to be my own personal timeframe for mourning is over and that it is now simply enough to honor and remember.

Or it could be that recent events have numbed me to such a degree that I don’t have sufficient room in my heart to grieve anymore for those whose deaths have been grieved over so much.

The number of people who turned out for this morning’s memorial walk here in D.C. would indicate that I am in the minority. Or perhaps that is simply others’ way of remembering and honoring. I don’t know.

I don’t know where my copy of Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon is right now, but I believe the main character reaches a point of clarity in his life when he realizes that he shouldn’t complain about his family burdening him with their problems because they’re his family. That’s sort of how I feel about mass human tragedies — that we shouldn’t complain about being overburdened by other people’s misery because we are all part of the same greater family.

Sometimes it’s just hard to remember that.

Today brings some good knitting news:

Two weeks ago I realized I’d screwed up the pattern on the project I’m knitting. Then later in the week, I thought I could salvage it from another end. Last weekend, it occurred to me that I might not be able to salvage it after all, but wouldn’t know until I checked with someone more knowledgable. Of course I didn’t realize this on a day my local yarn shop was open. So I moved that part of the project over to a spare needle (many thanks to Gramma and her random spare needles I could never figure out why I’d need) and started the part of the project I’d intended to be working on before.

The trip to the local yarn shop today was profitable in several ways. The girl working there (who also helped me last fall when I was trying to adapt a hat pattern and who taught me how to use double pointed needles) was able to tell me that my project would be fine and that I didn’t need to rip out all the rows I’d been working on. Thank goodness!

She also told me she had no idea what an overcast stitch was either and provided me with an alternative stitch to put the project together with when I eventually finish knitting it.

And she had in stock the knitting needle stopper that I wanted to buy so I wouldn’t lose parts of the project while traveling.

Never has $2.50 been so well spent!

Hooray for local yarn shops! And helpful salespeople!