What? You’re still here?

Q: So, Stephanie. We’ve noticed that you haven’t mentioned anything about what you’ve been doing since you got back. Now that you’ve run out of vacation material…what are you doing?

A: Well, truthfully…I’ve been trying to distract you from the incredibly boring and mundane reality of my life. I wonder what I did to amuse you all before I started wandering all over Canada, cycling whole provinces with a whack of kids and procuring stupid amounts of stash. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t laundry…but that really seems to be all I do right now. (That and wipe syrup off of the table. That’s like a whole hobby of mine now. No…wait, I also get to pick up shoes from all over the house and return them to the front hall, and lest you think that it ends there, I also have been deeply fulfilled by settling fights about nail polish between teenaged girls as well as really, really being enriched by the ongoing debate/shakedown called “Why I’m going to die if you don’t let me spend all of the money that you have earned this whole summer on a pair of red boots that make me look like a common strumpet.) I’m looking forward to school starting in six days, and I finished the “Narrow Scarf” from the trip, and I’ve decided that I’m a pretty big fan of those River John needles.
I’m still working on the Never-ending baby sweater.
I’d forgotten that this gauge is a double edge sword. It’s a beautiful tiny, light fiddly thing for a baby, and I always like little tiny baby things knit in little tiny baby wool. On the other hand, knitting baby stuff out of this is like knitting an adult sweater, it’s the same number of stitches…only you get the privilege of blinding yourself and developing a nasty squint at the same time.
I opted against ribbing and instead knit these little hems.
Q: Do you like the hems better than the ribbing?
A: Well, yeah. I mean they look like a million bucks, don’t they? I knit an inch, then folded it up and knit a stitch from the cast on edge together with the stitch on the needle all the way across. That way, I saved myself having to sew the hem up.
Q: Clever!
A: Not really. It would have taken ten minutes to sew the hem up, and it took, well, much longer than that to pick up the little tiny cast on stitches and knit the hem up. As a matter of fact I sort of think that I might have gotten some kind of Post-traumatic-stress disorder from it.
Q: Why do it then?
A: That’s an excellent question, and one that we all know the answer to. It’s because I’m out of my mind. Clearly I’ve become delusional and now believe that knitting up a hem would be way smarter than doing the faster, easier thing. I like knitting better than sewing, so I keep getting tricked into thinking that knitting something together is going to be way, way more fun than sewing something together. Six hours later when I’m a gibbering, weeping idiot who has a permanent squinty right eye….what do I do? That’s right, I get charmed by the cleverness of the knitted up hem and do the next one the same way. You would think I was drunk.
Q: So maybe knitted up hems is one of those techniques that’s just worth it?
A: Are you on crack? It looks the same. Sewn-up and knitted-up hems look the same. The only difference is that one leaves you with spare time and your sanity and the other doesn’t. For crying out loud…haven’t you been listening? I’m a woman on the edge and knitted up hems have done it to me.
Q: So, considering that you’re a reasonably self aware, educated woman with a good head on her shoulders, now that you’ve realized this about hems, and you have one sleeve left to go, are you going to get over it and sew up this hem?
A: This interview is over. Get out of my house.