Today is the anniversary of the day that Skynet would have become self-aware and begun the war between man and machine. So everyone shout out a thanks to Sarah Connor for squashing Arnold Schwarzenegger's metal skeleton in a mechanical press and then blowing up a tech company, thus adverting the apocalypse. I hear those are a bummer.
Of course that was in 1997, or the 1984 version of a 1997 that didn't happen.
All of which is a long and complicated way of saying the future has arrived, the world hasn't ended, and somehow we're still not cruising around in flying cars.
In other news, I just finished knitting a nice cold-weather cardigan so if it stays unreasonably warm throughout the fall, you can blame me and my knitting karma. Perhaps in the name of ending California's current drought, I should cast on for a nice light-weight cotton tank next. That ought to do it.
My household has little in the way of plans this holiday weekend. I actually planned to have no plans. Sometimes it takes some advanced scheduling to work that out. I have some vague intentions. I might do some knitting, I think I'll do a little writing, and if at all possible a certain amount of loafing may occur.
My week was loafless.
And all of this is a little disjointed and random. It's been that kind of week, I think. Weekends are for knitting it back together.