Suddenly, Tuesdays are back. I’m not sure where they went really, but for a while there, all the days of the week blurred into one big work-fest and knowing what day of the week it was became not just a challenge, but irrelevant. It didn’t matter if it was Thursday or Saturday or anything. Only the almighty post-it to-do list reigned supreme, and I got up, consulted the post-it pad and started with the first thing on it. There was teaching and writing and the Summit and then the garter stitch and the wedding and the associated festivities/obligations and really, Sunday night after I got home from the post-wedding party where I delivered the blanket, I sat down (first stunner) and realized that I could knit anything that I wanted to. Anything. A sweater, a shawl, a hat.. .maybe get a jump on Christmas, or maybe- hell. Screw that – maybe I would knit something that had no deadline at all. Just something fun that nobody was expecting for any reason at all… and I was just about giddy with it.

I went into my wool room (shut it. I’m a professional. Nobody looks at a carpenter funny when he has a workshop) which is really an overgrown closet and I started looking at books and pulling out yarn and I noticed that actually, I really needed to move a lot of spinning fibre out of my way to get at some other stuff, and then I realized that this isn’t the half of it, because Rachel H and Denny and I are actually going to Wellington Fibres to pick up some stuff that we had processed, and as a tower of merino fell onto the floor in front of me, I wondered how this happened.

Ok, I mean, I don’t really wonder how it happened. I understand what I do and how it got here. *Steph saw fibre. Steph gave fibre people money, fibre people gave Steph fibre (repeat from * until house is full.) I get how this happened. It’s not like it was a terrible, terrible accident or some sort of fibre seizure and gosh I can’t imagine how this room got full. It was a choice. I put it here… but really, there’s a lot of it, and it doesn’t seem to be coming and going with the same sort of regularity that it used to. It’s just… um, coming… and coming, and coming. Not a lot of going, and for the life of me I stood there wondering what was up with that. What changed? Where’d the turnover go?

Then I heard that little voice in my head. The voice of my own simple intuition that so often guides me gently along my path, and that wee voice said “Hey Dumbass? You used to spin on Tuesdays and you don’t now. Who did you think was going to use up all this stuff?”

Oh. Right. Tuesdays are for spinning. I’m going to sit at the wheel now, and this is my first victim, a beautiful Enchanted Knoll batt. (Love her stuff – and I have the stash to prove it.)



Remind me next Monday that I’m sticking to this… will ya – right before I’m the subject of a headline that reads Toronto woman found buried in mountain of fibre, husband says “we all tried to tell her it was a Tuesday”.