All day yesterday I had a desire for finished stuff. I just wanted to have drifts and drifts of finished stuff to be gathered around me. I wanted to suffocate in the doneness of it all. I wanted to not only finish all the knitting, but I wanted to finish the writing, clean the kitchen, fold the laundry, make the bed, vacuum the stairs, weed the garden, sweep the porch, and read every unread book that I own. I ended up just standing in the living room doing that flippy-floppy thing with my hands. I needed a little direction, as I do quite often in my life. So, by the end of yesterday, I was determined to finish something, anything at all.
I had a pair of socks on the needles. These socks were different from the rest of the socks on my needles. (one other pair, not that big a deal, they don't deserve the plural) These socks were almost done. They had just one little toe to go, and I couldn't let them go unfinished.
So I pulled out the latest New Yorker, determined to finish it before the new one came. (I might add that it is a day late. This sort of thing happens to me a lot) and I sat there, multi-tasking my little heart out. There is no experience that exceeds reading while I knit, I feel so smart and clever.
Despite several distractions, and people wanting crap from me (which was less than usual) I was done a little while before bed. I even grafted the toes and wove in the ends. (Do you see who serious I was!! I wove in the ends the moment that I was done!! Does that prove to you just how serious I was about needing done stuff!!)
The socks are made out of Berreco Comfort sock, a very nice sock yarn if I ever saw one. It is made out of a rib and cable pattern that changes from rib to cable about every inch and half. The cable, and the rib for that matter, is on two stitches separated by one little purl stitch. They are going to be put away (for exactly six months and one day) as a Christmas present for my mother. Over plan much? Oh please, I was working on 2011 Christmas during 2010 Christmas. (It was kind of an accident, long story)
It is a Friday, I just went out to get the mail and the new New Yorker came. It is gently raining outside and it will be for a while. The windows are open and I can smell the sweet air drifting through them. I have done all my work for the day, and will probably spend the night nursing a hot cup of tea and the sweater that will never end. (I'll tell you about it later.) Tonight is clean sheet night. All the twitchy feelings have gone away, and I am more than happy to do nothing. I can only hope that I feel the same way while I'm trying to sleep.