It started to hit me a few days ago. As the fervor that is Christmas started to die down, and we started to get a little quieter around here, nature filled that vacuum with a crazy feeling. It began as an urge to poke around the stash a little, a vague sense that I had some really good stuff I might want to look at and cast on. (I did.)
The next day it presented itself as a compulsion to wind up about 10 balls of yarn and surf the internet looking at patterns for a while (and cast a few things on, again) – and last night, as I started thinking about heading to knit night, it finally blossomed, full blown, into a crazed case of Startitis, as I started putting three projects (for one evening) into my bag, and then – realizing that didn’t even start to scratch the itch – considered that I was taking a serious risk going to a yarn shop. I tucked another project in, just to look at, thinking that might help, and went. I managed to (just) buy magazines – and wait until I got back home to cast on. (Again.) This morning I started something else. (Again.)
I was going to write more about that, but it all started feeling pretty familiar, and then I remembered . I think this might be a time of year thing.
January of 2011.
I’m at 10 projects and counting. What is it about January?