Live with the black sheep, live me with me

Quite literally. I smell of wool and Marseille soap. Not a nice combination. I did not feel like million bucks when I got back. On top of all, granny was dizzy, so I had to stay awake two hours just in order to help her out and help with the cooking. I failed the cooking part. Again. When I went to bed (I drooled in my sleep like a coma patient, honestly!), I felt like these had attacked me:

My patience today amazed me. Mostly people complained about having to deal with real sheep wool, I do find it comforting somehow, the scent/smell, I've taken care of a black sheep for a while as a kid, cow dung doesn't make me grimace much either. We had a dairy farm. Sure, the smell of wet wool and soap isn't nice when it clings you and in your home, you still can smell it on your skin. Sure enough I want to go and soak in a shower. Can't have a shower. Only sauna. FML.

Dunno what they thought when I was listening metal and picking the wool with the needle in a furious pace. I recall a comment: What a machine! What? San Sebastian from Sonata Arctica is one of the best for that. As Don't Say a Word is most suitable for twisting copper wire into rings and getting them ready for sawing. I have weird habits, I know. Gah, I was elbows deep in that wool... I'm SO scrubbing myself clean tomorrow.

A letter from Lappia arrived finally. interestingly, the both schools I got something from so far I applied for clothing... Do they want me to become a fashion designer and a seamstress? Howeveryouwritethatshit.