If you are familiar with brain weasels, you know how much they suck. If you aren't, you're lucky. For those of you who haven't heard the term, it's those voices in you head, usually caused by anxiety or depression, or perhaps some unpleasant childhood programming of internal dialogue. The brain weasels have been out in full force here, breeding like bunnies. I've fought them before and I know what they look like, though I haven't had quite so many before. I finally called Teri and enlisted help in banishing them. I got some lovely brain weasel silencers. There are still a few rattling the bars of their cage, but they're not sexin' it up anymore with gay abandon. In the midst of the brain weasel orgy, the knitting has fallen by the wayside. Basically everything has. I see what I should be doing, but to actually do most of it... wasn't happening. I washed dishes, and I fed the kids and Jerek. Sometimes I fed me. The rest of the time, well. Now it...