I have reached a conclusion, and I know that it’s true, because if it wasn’t, why would I be posting it for all the world to see.
I have decided that, after careful consideration, that this one project at a time thing, is utter crap.
There, I’ve finally said it. Let me go further, this two project at a time thing is crap. Three might not be enough. I’m not kidding either.
In yarn stores around the country and in knit nights, there is a rumored whisper of the one project at a time knitter. They are an odd lot, to be feared and mistrusted. After they finish a project, they start another one, not before the project is done, when it reaches that stage where knitting another stitch on it starts to make you sad for a reason you can’t, and don’t want to name. That’s usually the time when us normal knitter start a little something on the side, just to tide us over. I’m not saying that we’re cheating, because over here we don’t like cheaters, just that we are sort of making ourselves appreciate what we’ve got.
And now I’ve figured it all out. This one project at a time thing is over rated, and just plain not worth it, in addition to darn near impossible to do. It’s also impossible to write a knitting blog, which I have on good authority is read by non-knitters, without sounding like some knit obsessed freak. I assure all of you that I really do lots of other things besides knitting. The sad part is that the knitting is just the most interesting.
Well, maybe not. Ohio is sopping wet today. (Why do I always talk about the weather?) So me, being half crazed with cabin fever, left to go on a nice walk. I went though some fields and some woods, along so trails and through the woods. Suddenly I found myself by a little creek, which is dry most of the year, but it was really rather swollen due to the weather. I walk along each side of it, but I got to a point where I either have to walk several feet though some poison oak/ivy ( and looking back, this probably would have been the best option, considering that I was wearing pants and shoes, and had about three inches of wet pant bottoms.) I could have gone though a tree, which I’m not that good at, or I could have crossed over a muddy creek on this little fallen tree, maybe nine inches in diameter. Don’t ask me how I got into that situation, I’m not exactly boy scout when it comes to leaves, and I also don’t notice much.
Lesson of the story: avoid slippery bark, when you’ve got poor balance, and a slightly preoccupied mind.
Thankfully I didn’t do that thing in movies where the main character always falls right on their ass. (You know you say it too.) I had the foresightedness to step off the log when I went down. So, with wet up to my knee, I took two giant steps forward, and the started to clamber up the rather steep bank. Which was also rather slippery. That proved to be worse than the log, because I slid several times through the mess to tree roots and mud. It was one of those moments where you have the urge to shout at the top of your lungs and throw things. After hauling my wet shirt back out of the creek (I needed something to throw) I stomped the whole way home, with my socks making little squishy sounds the whole way.
I think I invented about seven new cuss words. And made notes only dogs could hear.