It appears that I’ve become one of those people I used to hate. (Not really hate, but they really really bothered me to an unreasonable degree.) No, I’m not saying things like “The homeless aren’t that bad off,” or “I want to help people, but not with my money and time.” I still think clean energy is a good thing, and that everyone should be able to marry whom they love.

But here’s the thing, I’ve become, or am in the process of becoming, a one project at a time knitter.

Okay, now pick yourself up off the floor. You in the back, quit laugh. Don’t say that sort of stuff, it’s not nice. I’m serious here. Well, maybe not one at a time, one main project, and then some little socks for portable knitting. I look around at all the yarn, with needles stopped in mid-stitch, and I think “What was I thinking?Would I really wear a white cardigan that would match surgical stockings a little too well? Would I every finish a hat knit on size five needles with about five million colors? Is that knitting worth my time? Is that pattern really worth of that yarn. Wouldn’t this be better suited for that? What is the meaning of life? Why am I here? Who bought all this yarn?”

That little sweater you saw. (Actually, it’s for me, which makes it a kind of a big sweater. Though I have lost weight. Thanks for noticing!) Is one of two projects on the needles. That and a pair of socks. I’m almost done with the sleeves too. I would show you a picture, but I can’t remember where I left them. (I lose everything. ) And I also don’t really feel like dragging out the camera; the thing weighs like nothing, but yet it still feels like SO much work.

And I haven’t a clue what to knit next. Isn’t that odd. I used to have a never-ending list of new stuff, but now, poof, it’s gone. Gone, gone with the wind. I look at a very nice color work sweater and all I think is, “Colorwork, is that really what I’m about now.”

But you’ve heard this speech from me before. I must say that while complaining is extraordinarily satisfying, it doesn’t get a lot done. I must find a pattern or something that shouts, from the top of its lungs, “KNIT ME! KNIT ME! KNIT ME!”

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