The very definition of terror

When you're minding your business with your back to the window, listening to Marc Almond and suddenly hear a WHUMP! followed by the very sudden appearance of ropes, rig and two shabbily-dressed people about three feet away from you waving sticks and buckets.

Window washers.

The building should really send out a notice or something when they're scheduled. I screamed and jumped. I did the same thing when a pelican came flying at me, but at least it veered away a couple of feet before smashing. Speaking as a Catholic with a lot of deus ex machina on the brain and a Frankenstein complex, I almost started crying.

Okay, I realize that I'm a spaz and as one person at a meet was kind enough to point out, I'm also arrogant and overbearing (I would have reacted but my friend is dying to be friends with this person, not that it matters to him anyway what was said since he thinks everything I say is suspect/end digress). I may also be high-strung. And all this time I thought I was mellow and laid-back.

I still have not finished the wee sweater and I need to by Saturday or the world will crumble and I will be having an attack on Saturday morning. What are the chances I can knit while at work without anyone noticing or interrupting me?