Lovely interwebs, before I begin my sad tale, allow me to preface with revealing a big, terrible, highly embarrassing secret:
I don't do multitasking.
And! As though that one admission wasn't enough to cast me out of modern society...
I have a very slow processing time.
It's true. Playing card games where you have to slap the matching sets quickly? I will never win. Speed reading? Can't do it. My sister could read an entire book by the time I get through three chapters. And while I realize that these faults will mean that I will never be able to live in New York City, or get through A Remberance of Things Past, I do not actually mind them. Usually.
Most of the time, in fact, I enjoy setting my own pace. I like digging into what I'm doing with focus and thought. I enjoy the process: the slow steps that eventually, with considerable time, will lead to the finish line. This makes knitting a great hobby for me, because it doesn't get much slower than forming each and every tiny stitch yourself. There is a rhythm in knitting, but there is also much room. Room for meditation, room for breath. Your hands are busy, so you have an excuse for not folding towels or scrubbing the floor. You are being of use by making something sensible, such as a sock, while secretly being incredibly indulgent. Especially since just the yarn for handknit socks costs significantly more than storebought, not to include the time expense. I could go down to the mall and buy a whole bag of socks for the time and money it takes to just get into the cuff of a handknit socks. But this is neither here nor there, because knitted socks are worlds and worlds better than a storebought sock. (Nonknitters: see the difference between homemade chocolate chip cookies and chips ahoy. Also, find some sticks and yarn quickly. You NEED handknits in your life.)
Well, I have been carrying around a half-formed sock, as one does, in my bag. The sharp double pointed needles make me feel safer while wandering around the big city (even though I know I probably would do myself more harm if I ever attempted to use them as a weapon). This is also highly convenient because I am never bored in lines; I am knitting. To say that this does not attract stares from other twenty-somethings would be lying. But, having not been completely unscathed from teasing in junior high and high school, I have developed an immunity to iocane powder and the gaze of strangers. So, I knit. And often, while knitting, I am having coffee with friends, or waiting at the DMV, or watching Parks and Recreation (best show ever!). And all of these are examples of acceptable knitting activities. The knitting keeps my hands from fidgeting the whole time I'm out, and, so long as the knitting is not super complicated, much of it is muscle memory. Now, you might be thinking "That sounds an awful lot like multitasking", but it isn't. It's just happening to knit and be somewhere at the same time while listening and speaking.
But, there is an unacceptable place to knit. And while this might seem obvious, and while I have made this mistake many, many times before, last night I had to learn this lesson again.
Make that this morning...
Hangovers are bad enough when you don't have to wake up to sock gussets that look as though a snaggle-toothed goat decided to have a midnight snack. There were dropped stitches running down my sock like the tears of a Ranger's fan last night (they still beat the Astros, of course). There were decreases in places no decrease should ever be. And my stitch count...there are no words.
Interwebs, if you happen to be out at a dark bar with a group of friends and you've just had a Texas Tea: Do. Not. Knit. Even if you think this is a wonderful opportunity to get some work done on the foot of the second sock (so close you can smell how warm your feet will be), do. not. knit. Even if you know that you have got this stitch pattern down like the back of your hand, do. not. knit. Even if everyone at the table is admiring the pretty purple yarn and you happen to discover that one of your staight male friends can knit, do. not. knit. Even if you've been dying to knit all day and you finally get your chance to sit down and relax, do. not. knit. You will wake up next to something you can't recognize, and it won't be pretty.
So, instead of getting to the toe today, I am ripping back and reknitting the foot. =[
If I were the sort of person to get a proverb tatooed on my forearm, that proverb would be this:
Drunken bitches can't make stitches.
Be a baller instead.
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