Why is it? Everyone at home can be napping on the couch, or outside doing chores, or maybe in the case of sons even out with friends while I am doing dishes or knitting straight plain stockinette or garter stitch--any thing that doesn't take any thought. Why is it, the moment I get to a "count each stitch" part of the pattern, OR sit down to work on my blog, everyone has to talk to me?
Why can I be all alone in a quiet house, reading a mystery BUT as soon as I get to a crucial plot point, or the summation of the detective's theory--Why does hubby come in and start talking? And frequently start talking by picking up a long forgotten (I thought) conversation from a couple hours or even a couple days ago?
Why at the best part of a great old movie or musical, does Younger Son sit down to tell me some long (VERY long) car story involving a friend I don't know with references to car parts I don't recognize, and going off on every tangent that presents itself?
Are all male type people like this?
While I mull these thoughts over--maybe it will help my concentration if I look at fiber animals.
Nice alpacas, pay no attention to the woman with the scissors.