From time to time, say…every day, someone tells me that I’m “crazy”. Now, for the most part I figure that they don’t actually mean “crazy” like “gosh I hope she gets some help”, but more like..”oh that crazy Steph”. People still let me babysit and everything. I am unaffected by their words. I know I’m sane.
Today though, Joe points out that I may be a little “off”.
Proof the first.

This picture very accurately captures the colours of the Dublin Bay sock. I took this picture and said to Joe “look how pretty the purple and mauve is… I’m so glad I’m getting Ian’s present done”. Joe just looked at me. I looked back. What? Joe stared me down. When I simply started back quizzically, Joe’s face moved from blank to incredulous.
“Are you serious?” he asked. (I thought about that for a minute. That question is usually a tip off that the asker thinks the answer should be “no”. )
“Yeah” I replied. Why on earth wouldn’t I be happy about getting ahead on Christmas? For crying out loud I get lectures on this very topic. He says “Why don’t you start earlier” “Why do you do this to yourself” “Why are you crying again” Here I am trying to pull it together so that we can all be spared the parade of woes and dude’s on my case?
“Steph” he says gently, ” you’re out of your mind honey, you’re crazy. You’ve been working too much or something”
“What?” (I’m really confused)
“Let’s just string these few words together ok?” (I must be missing something because he’s talking sort of slowly to me)
” Ian…hockey…beer…power tools…pretty mauve socks”
Damn.
Proof the second

I’m going to knit this by Saturday. I really believe that. Off I tell you. I’m a little off.