SUCH a productive day.
Or not. I went shopping for buttons for the cardigan. Nada. I'm not looking for fancy ones, either, just six simple, black or turquoise, 7/8th-inch buttons. At least Joann's had buttons; Michael's did not. (Get offa my lawn, you youngsters!)
And then tonight I bought the pattern for Glenfiddich, to knit in the souvenir yarn from Scotland. My printer printed half the pages and declared itself out of ink. Well, phooey. At least I got the laundry put away.
Keeping track every day of what I accomplish (or not) is illuminating. Apparently, half of knitting or spinning or weaving is sheer stubborn persistence, increment by increment.