Last night, I set my alarm for 4:15am, and then went back and changed it to 4:30 because the extra 15 minutes gave me a sliver of a will to live, and I thought that rushing a little in the morning would be better. I have no way to explain to you why I did this, because I recognize that I’m not a morning person and while I am capable of rushing in the morning, I’m not really capable of doing it without weeping softly as I do it, and that’s exactly what I did this morning. The car came for me at 5:15, and I was on my way to the airport in the beginnings of a massive storm, peering into the darkness, and wondering how long it would hold off, if my flight would be delayed, if I would meet Clara on time in Denver to join up for the flight to Austin, and if I have any of the right clothes for Austin (I don’t. You can take a gal out of the winter, but you can’t take the winter out of the gal.)
Now I’m at the airport, wondering sort of absently why there are so many people here (storm) drinking (another) cup of coffee, wondering why I keep booking flights that in my soul I feel are a human rights violation, and casting on for a hat. Sam’s lost hers again, and while I feel like there should be consequences for this many lost hats, I don’t feel like those consequences should include frostbite, so… another hat it is. (She’s not getting another Wurm though. Too much knitting for a hat-loser. I suggested she whip out the needles herself if she was getting particular, and all of a sudden she was a paragon of flexibility. She’ll get what I knit, and she’ll like it.)
So I was sitting here, feeling exactly zero positive things – this is how much I am not a morning person, and I was glumly pulling out the hat stuff, and casting on, and then I had to rip it out because apparently I can’t to a lick of math before at least 8am, and this lady walks by, and she says “Are you KNITTING?!” (You could actually hear the interrobang, if you’re wondering.) I look up, sort of prepared to cheerfully make my way through another conversation about the archaic and bizarre nature of my occupation, and how she didn’t think anyone did that anymore, and how she heard knitting was making a comeback, or how I must have a lot of patience, or any of the other stereotypical and untrue stuff that people say to me in airports… and I sigh a little, gird myself and say “Yup.”
This lady’s face lights up like a Christmas tree, and she says “It looks so fun! All I’m going to do on my flight is watch a stupid movie.”
“I’m going to watch a stupid movie and make a hat.” I tell her, suddenly feeling much better. Productive, even. Like my day has a purpose, even though I’m in a stinking airport at dawn.
“Lucky duck” she says, and off she goes.
I bet she’s a morning person. (Thanks, lady.)