I cast on 36 stitches, more or less. I scribble a note, a line of knitting, then cross it out. I sketch a plan. I try to knit my ideas into fabric. I might rip back, or unravel altogether. I go again and again.

I pull out an odd ball of leftover yarn and try it, to see if these stitches work with this kind of yarn. I scribble some more. I change needles, take measurements, knit another row.

I could be washing dishes, or driving to the post office, or brushing my teeth when something clicks. I let it click, and hope that I can get to the pencil and paper and yarn quickly, before I lose it.

This makes me happy. I’m creating things, from my head to my hands to knitted fabric. I’ve been dreaming ideas and stitching them into being, and it makes all the rest of it tolerable.

Job-hunting is tedious. After the listing is found and the résumé sent, it’s all wait and see. Patience is required, and I have plenty of it. It has to be this way.

Here in my knitting world, though, I don’t need to be that kind of patient. I can turn my idea into a plan in a couple of hours. Sometimes it takes just a few rows for me to know if it’s working. Sometimes it takes most of a scarf. I might rip back, or unravel altogether. I go again and again.