Take Your Pick

Most days the two hours I spend commuting by train is enjoyable. It gives me plenty of time to knit, or read, or just daydream. Today was an exception. The man sitting next to me this evening seemed nice enough at first glance. I mean he was wearing a plaid shirt and dockers, and reading a really great book, so really, he must be normal. Right? Wrong.

He was, as we say in this family, a picker. I won't give you all the graphic details, but let's just say he began with his ears and then moved onto his nose. Oh, and in addition to the picking...there was flicking. Thank goodness I got off the train before he could delve into any other, er, openings. And in between the picking - because it is just so exhausting - he napped. And rested his head ever so gently on my shoulder. Grrrr.

Thankfully, this will take my mind off the disgusting, stomach turning ride home. Some of it is from my favorite nearly-instant-gratification-yarn-store, and some is from the yarn-store-within-walking-distance-of-my-office. Some is for me, and some is for my secret pal. I just haven't "picked" who's getting what.

Sorry. Really, I'm so sorry.