The first step…

…is admitting you have a problem. The events recounted here are as accurate as I am willing to admit to publicly. There may have been a few moment where I sunk lower than this…but it is difficult to live in denial when you’ve posted it all to the blog.
Friday 11:20 I take pictures of the fibre Laurie sent me, I post those pictures to the blog and I try to forget. I am trying to grow as a person, and this means that I do not dump my current project because something pretty walked by. I am a knitter of conviction.
11:25. The fibre is out of the box. I still have no intention of spinning it though. I’ve got stuff to do, the Eeyore blanket still needs a border but I’m supposed to fork it over to the recipient in about 24 hours. Clearly there is no time for spinning. Besides, I’m sticking with my plan to finish the tank before I start anything else, I cannot be tempted, besides…I’ll enjoy it more if I have to wait for it.
11:30. I’m just going to put the box with the fibre by the wheel. It’s important to keep things tidy. Once I’ve tidied up, then I’ll have time for spinning knitting the tank top and finishing Eeyore.
12:30 I have been eating for the last hour, since I cannot eat and spin at the same time. This is similar to when Ken quit smoking and the tip sheet said “try to spend time doing activities that you don’t associate with smoking”. Ken dejectedly said “Great. I have to live in the shower”.
12:35 I am in the shower.
12:40 I have begun a complex period of rationalization. I have decided to pre-draft the fibre, but not spin it. This will leave me enough time to finish the border on the Eeyore blanket, but still give me a taste of the good stuff. It is a good plan, and one I have complete control over.
1:00. I am spinning. This is ok though, because I have figured out how to make it work, I am just going to spin for a little while, just because if I don’t start it right away Laurie will think that I don’t like it. I don’t want her to think that because Laurie’s happiness means a great deal to me. I would never be unkind to a friend. Never. I will work on the Eeyore blanket this evening, and it will still be done for tomorrow.
Later, before dinner: I have lost track of time. I am no longer sure of anything except that this fibre is beautiful and perfect and I am not worthy. I am still sure that I can finish the Eeyore blanket, I just need to stay focussed on the spinning so that I don’t run out of time. The children say they are hungry, but I remind them that it is “Find your own Food Friday“.
6:00 I am forced to stop spinning by the pain in my right leg. A lesser woman would think that the pain was a signal to stop. A lesser woman would be worried about the limp. I am not a lesser woman. I take a tylenol and switch legs. No Problem.
9:00. Victory is mine.
9:02 (pm) As I pull the Eeyore blanket from the bag of denial it’s been sitting in, I realize that the universe seeks balance. There are a number of expressions to describe the situation I’m in. “Time to pay the piper” rings true, “Just desserts” is another. “I am so screwed…” is also accurate. The Eeyore border is so big that I need three circulars to go around it. I make coffee and remind myself that I get everything I deserve. It is in these moments that I can see the problems with my overall approach. Luckily, I’m not bright enough to learn from experience.
Saturday, 2:43 am. I fall asleep on the couch, and wake with a start when I impale my inner elbow with a circular point. Eeyore is not finished. I go to bed and set my alarm for 7:30. It will only take two hours to finish Eeyore, but I want to get some spinning in before I start.
7:30: Exhausted, I stagger from bed, wondering briefly if this is all making sense. I mean, I have the fibre and the rest of my life. I could delay gratification, I could grow up a little, I could get some kind of a grip on myself and go back to bed and spin after I finish Eeyore. I could…
7:32: Spinning.
12:00 Eeyore is done.
12:01 Spinnng.
4:30. I briefly contemplate skipping a party that I have promised the children we will go to. Before I manage to yank my will free of the vaccuum of the rainbow roving I am even briefly convinced that I don’t like the people at the party. (Note to self: the pull of the roving is harder to resist when weakened by lack of sleep, further note: this is likely the rovings plan)
5:30 I take the whiny Dublin bay socks to the street party. They have a good time. I pretend to love them, but think only of the roving.
12:30 Back home I try to spin but accidentally fall asleep. Luckily the intense cramping in my leg has spread into the right side of my arse, waking me before I fall into the wheel.
10:00 I decide to spend the day with my children, (right after I get a little spinning in).
10:10 The expression “wool widow” is used in the house. I begin to think that Joe and the children may have noticed the wheel attached to my leg. I get up and go out with them. A whole day is wasted on “loving my family” and “spending time with the children”.
Sunday morning. 8:30 I attempt to get up before the rest of the family to spin. Joe stops me as I leave our bed, worried that maybe I am getting up to spin. He wonders if maybe the fact that my right leg (or treadle leg, as I have come to think of it) is dragging uselessly behind me means that I may be a little obsessed about the spinning thing. I laugh and gently reassure him that I have no intention of spinning. (With that leg) I’m just going to work for a while. I’m not obsessed.
8:32 I am at the wheel, but when I hear the family coming downstairs and scurry (well, as fast as I can with that gimpy leg) to the computer and feign interest in my job. When Joe asks me if I was spinning I laugh and kiss him to draw his attention away from the still moving wheel. I mumble something about the cat playing with the wheel. I try to look innocent. I don’t know if he bought it.
I take another tylenol and wait for these people to clear out. They don’t understand anything.
12:30 Victory is mine.
My only regret is that I must wash it to set the twist before I can start the socks.
9:00 Monday morning. The wool is not dry. After a brief period of consideration, I’ve retrieved the hair dryer, (What? Don’t look at me like that. Wool is hair) because nothing can tear me from this project, when the letter carrier comes.
Aubergine and I did a really cool wool trade, and his package for me arrives this morning and has a birthday bonus in it.
Alpaca. I love Alpaca. Maybe a scarf? Oh….gloves, knit sideways? A hat? A wimple? What the heck do I have this hair dryer for?
You know, I should start this right away or Aubergine will think I don’t like it.

29 thoughts on “The first step…

  1. I laughed my way through that post, you are just so funny! I may not spin, but sadly, I can SO relate to you!

  2. Joe has nothing to complain about. This morning on Good Morning America (an impeccable source) I discovered that 60% of married women have had affairs. You, you just spin and knit. Which would be prefer?
    I think we know the answer.
    Feel free to use the foregoing in your defense.

  3. Hilarious! You know what my conclusion is? You need a double treadle wheel!
    I would love to hear some details about how you spun the yarn (Navajo plied?). Also, what were the lengths of color? Looks beautiful. Might take you a while to recover from all of that.

  4. I laughed so hard my daughter came to see what was so funny. And then SHE laughed so hard she fell over on the study floor. I kept waiting for her to say that this behavior was just like mine! Because it is.
    The real problem/pleasure is that the colors change so you keep on spinning to see what is coming next. And then the navajo-plying is just plain fun. And then …
    Next time I will send ONE roving at a time. Your yarn looks perfectly beautiful, by the way. For the person who asked how I knew how much to send, I guessed at 2 ounces per rainbow roving since the last patch @ 1.5 ounces ran (I thought) a bit short. By the way, what did the yardage turn out to be?

  5. *gasp* you don’t like it?!?!?!
    Harlot, I have not laughed this hard at one of your entries for quite a long time… Wool Widow….. he he he

  6. When I saw the picture of that glorious roving on Friday, I had a strong suspicion that you were not going to be able to resist its pull, and I was right. Alas, my knitting friends who read your blog wouldn’t put money down that you could resist it… Perhaps we should have set up a pool as to how long you could resist it, since resistance was obviously futile. Hmm.
    I must warn you that I have become increasingly suspicious of the motives and intentions of one of my knitting friends. She was extremely covetous of the gorgeous socks you knit from the previous gift from Laurie. Now that you have more yarn spun from Laurie’s roving, plus that gorgeous alpaca (one of her great weaknesses), I am afraid she might take a “spontaneous” trip to Toronto to ransack your house…

  7. Claudia mentioned that 60% of married women have affairs. I think the fact that Stephanie had to take a cold shower to distract herself from the wool is evidence that she is in that group :-).

  8. All too familiar – but you tell it a lot better than I could! (Un)Fortunately, I am not yet a spinner… It sounds like things can only get worse!
    But oh, that beautiful yarn! And you were right, Eyore DID get done.

  9. *giggling madly*
    You know, what will probably make Joe feel even more like a wool widower is that all this mad spinning went to elegant, beautiful colored roving — and not to fleece rats for his gansey.
    All and all, I think I may take back what I said about wanting a wheel! *grin*

  10. Sounds like my mum with her knitting. I love the wool, I want some for christmas!;)

  11. And here I sat, wondering why you didn’t post all weekend. “Family stuff”, I concluded. “Away for the holiday”…wait…she’s in Canada….The only thing that consoles my Wool Widower is that the sweater I am making is for him.

  12. Dang, I can’t believe any mere human being can make such beautiful yarn. I would leave some draped around the fence like that, just to make the neighbours jealous. The Eeyore blanket is adorable too!

  13. In my house, the T.V. is a knittting tool, as in, it keeps the demands for food and attention at bay in half-hour intervals.
    You remind me of a passage from Infinite Jest where the character in question is preparing himself and his apartment for a weekend bender. Except that you have kids.
    I second Melissa’s double treadle suggestion. and a request for the details about how you treated the colours. please? You knew I was going to ask.
    I swear, the funniest blog post by you or anyone else ever.

  14. O.k., now I feel better about yesterday morning, which involved sitting on the floor of my bedroom, fresh out of the shower with a towel around my head (and not much else on), finishing just another couple of rows of that swatch. I should probably also mention that I was sitting on the other side of the room from the door, basically hiding behind the bed, so that, in case husband or children came in to find out why mommy’s shower was taking so long, I could quickly shove the knitting under the bed and pretend I was looking for my slippers. I ask you, is this any way for a grown woman to behave?

  15. You realize you have now actually begun journalling MY life…. I was brilliant enough to send the husband and step-son to an amusement park so I could spin – who needs rollar coasters – I’ve got my Lendrum double treadle, baby!
    But here’s my question – the hair dryer thing… would it work on the silk aran-weight I spun while they were doing the rides?

  16. I know I would be that way with spining (and such a beautiful yarn to boot!). Must stay away….must stay a knitter only!

  17. Thank you, ye enabler, for making me not feel so bad about staying up until 3:30 this morning spinning. And then spending a few hours *today* spinning. And then planning to spin into the wee hours of the morning again tonight.
    Gorgeous yarn you’ve fashioned there!

  18. It is all so true. Spinning is a great addiction, it’s why carry my drop spindle everywhere with me, just in case there is a free moment. Your blog is wonderful and funny! :o)

  19. Just reading through the archives–This is a wonderful short story all on its own; I thoroughly enjoyed it.
    I’m afraid to start spinning–it looks like a slippery slope, and I’m already having trouble with my footing.
    Thank you for your blog.
    (The next day with your 12-year-old is great, too.)

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