Oh, Yarn

Greetings from what used to be Funkytown. 

There have been a few inquiries as to what the hell is going on and why is it taking so long. While I find it both heart-warming - and somewhat unnerving – that, in the end, there are some precious lovelies out there who find these ever insightful and dare I say it ingenious stories amusing and forthcoming, I, for the first time in almost two years, am afraid I have been otherwise engaged.

This is just a quick word. I must be back soon, because they know I am typing and not working, and I just know if I leave them alone long enough, they are bound to band together, and that is one mutiny I’d rather never see happen.

The reason I have been occupied elsewhere for such a long time is that for some insane reason I had what at the time seemed like the idea of the century: to, after more than five years of not touching my needles, knit presents to my family and loved ones this year.

Why I would succumb to such madness is anybody’s guess, but here I am, in the thick of it, drowning in yarn. My life is hell right now.

Like today, I have undone in ten minutes what was more than three days’ worth of work because the item turned out much too big for who I was thinking of wearing it when it was ready. I screamed bloody murder as I ripped the whole thing back into yarn, and it took all the willpower I possess to not throw the fucking ball into oblivion.

And not just that. Having been knitting beanies for a few days, I decided to give a lengthy scarf that had been sitting out another go. I had quite a bit of it ready, hanging on the cable needle, and after a good half hour of continuing the pattern, I suddenly realized I had been knitting it as if a beanie, turning the damn thing into a bloody tube. A new design? I don’t think so. So, quoting Björk, undo.

Did I mention I am neither fast nor very good at this? But two times a rip? No. I may be slow, and a lefty, and my hand-writing may be neither here nor there, but careless I am not. Certainly not. So, ripping not one but two things I had done wrong just made me so crazy today.

So crazy in fact that all care, what little I had left, was blown in the wind right there. I became the madwoman I always knew was hiding just beneath the surface of the fabric, and so I yanked my expensive artisan licorice Christmas Calendar from underneath my easy chair where I stash it, tore open every damn hatch I hadn’t already opened on the appropriate day, and ate every piece of candy inside. That’s right, you should have seen me, gorging on my poor tasteful grownup’s Christmas Calendar like a pretty bespectacled pig in a Gilmore Girl sweater.

That was the first time in my whole life to cheat like that with the calendar. I had never cheated before, even as a child. And I'm not sure the word "cheat" even applies here. It was more like a forbidden feeding frenzy. The calendar was in shreds by the time I was through.

Not one of my proudest moments in this life, I have to say. But let’s face it, this past month and a half constitutes one long humble, and humbling, moment anyway.

Didn’t mean to ramble on like this, I really should be knitting. I can hear the skeins getting organized and the needles cackling in the box where I keep them. I think I heard someone mumble “Union” under their breath. I just know it is the neon pink hussy I haven’t had time to see to yet. Yes, yes, I’m coming, you assholes, just give me a minute!

On second thought, I happen to have the most beautiful bottle of Cava in the fridge. Maybe, if I drink the whole bottle, I will be a better knitter for it.

Suddenly I am just dying to test that theory.

With love, from inside the Cask of Amontillado.