A knitter packs for a week at the beach

Seven whole days. Where to start, where to start...

Hm.

No, no, no... Don't panic. deep breaths, deep breaths. It's OK, it's OK.

You'll be fine, you'll be fine.

But-but-but... how do I leave my stuff for that long? What if... what if I NEED something, and, and, and I don't have it with me? 

I CAN'T DO IT!

Shhhh. Calm yourself, woman! Get it together. Start small.

Some car knitting, for the drive down: 

Damn. I'm at the heel. I can't do the heel in the car. I'll get carsick!

 OK, OK.  Think. Think. No problem. Sit and knit through the heel to get to the easy foot part. 

Right now? I don't have time for that now. 

Yes you do, yes you do. Sit.

Sits and knits two rows, ignoring idea that this is surely a sign of insanity, and also ignoring various and assorted increasingly agitated inquiries for someone named "MOM?!" coming from upstairs.

Knitter is unable to quell rising tide of reason or the claims that there is actually blood this time. Gives up.

Hm. Maybe you can just start at new sock, she thinks, while verifying that there is actually no blood, but doling out a Band-aid anyway. 

Goes upstairs to look at sock yarn stash. Ignores the fact she has three - OK, OK, five - socks on needles already and doesn't even have needles free to use on new socks. Idly considers going to the yarn store to buy more needles. Realizes that this is nuts, and plans to just yank needles out of in-progress socks that need a time out. Continues with march upstairs.

Gets a little gaspy at sight of all the yarn. Decides to hell with socks, she needs to use up some of this yarn. RIGHT NOW is a good time because she can't go another minute with all this yarn weighing on her psyche. She will make some mittens for Afghans for Afghans, she decides, idly realizing that an actual afghan would use up a whole lot more yarn than a mitten, and that, really, money is probably what the Afghans need, not mittens, but the heck with it, she's got some yarn that needs a-usin'.  Sits down on floor immediately and casts on some mittens.



Promises herself she is never, ever, EVER  buying yarn again until all this stuff is used up. And she will send the money she didn't spend on yarn to the Afghans, along with all the mittens. 

Gets interrupted from thoughts of world peace by yarn purchase avoidance by the doorbell. It's the mailman bringing a sweater's worth of yarn she ordered over the Internet, to make this for Girl:

Ew. Decides the color is ALL WRONG and reminds herself that this is exactly why she had already vowed never, ever, EVER to buy yarn over the Internet again. Shoves it all back into its box and crams it behind her stash upstairs where she will not see it ever again and be forced to remember this lapse of judgment.

Remembers she is supposed to be packing.

Decides to empty out knitting basket downstairs and figure out what projects to bring.

Definitely this one, that she saw in the WEBS catalog and called immediately and insisted they send her right now. No, she couldn't wait a day for the lady to email the pattern; she didn't care about their "schedule," it was email for crying out loud!  Just press the darn button! Send it. I need it-I need it-I need it. NOW. Please.  Phew. 

Thank you.

OK. So definitely that, even though the knitter has a sneaking suspicion that her once again ignoring the suggested color of the pattern to go for her own shade - one she thought might make her look oh, so sharp and natty on the the soccer fields in the fall - is actually going to make her look like a crossing safety guard.

Sighs and tells herself it will be too hot to knit it at the beach anyway, and that what she really needs is drag around knitting, for when she gets dragged to baseball games or, heaven forfend, the beach.

OK. This should do.


And some thinking knitting - the stuff she never gets a chance to knit because she has to think about what she's doing, or remember where the hell she was, or even, in one case... remember what the hell it even is.

Finds this:

Alright, alright. I think I'm set, she tells herself, unable to prevent herself from snatching at some extra yarn and extra needles for JUST IN CASE she runs out or is suddenly overcome by an urge to knit something she does not already have. 

Realizes she still doesn't have car knitting. 

Hm. Maybe if I do make that sweater for Girl, but make it in the round so that it's all stockinette that I can do in the car... Do I still have time to get through 7 rows of 218 seed stitches for that hem before getting to the stockinette? Let's try. Races upstairs to unbury hidden ugly purple yarn for sweater, tossing bags of yarn to the floor until she finds it. Locates previously hidden purple yarn and commences knitting furiously, telling herself she'll clean up the mess of yarn on the floor when she gets back.

Finds herself unable to cast on the correct number of stitches to even begin the sweater, what with all the clamoring about "are we ready yet" coming from downstairs. 

Decides to just bring everything and sort it all out when she gets there. Shoves everything into two bags.

Recognizes two knitting baskets is surely a sign she has a problem, and pats herself on the back when she manages to cram it all into one. Phew.




OK, OK. One and a half.

Done.

But, oh, wait!

We need clothes, too?

Yeah.

So anyway, what was I saying? 

Oh, yeah:

Gone knittin'.

See ya' next week!

******************************************************

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, the folks over at humor-blogs don't knit.