I wish I could remember which child in my life used to gasp and say, “Ween-dy!” whenever s/he encountered a stiff breeze, like I did today. Oh, well, I am old and can’t remember those sweet moments as well as I used to. If either of my sisters (who lurk here) remembers, will they kindly tell me?
The wind signals a change in the weather, but my brain already knows all about it. I have been wild-headed today, scattered and jangly. Dissatisfaction with whatever I do sets in almost as soon as I begin doing it, and so I haven’t finished doing anything at all. Somehow, though, this isn’t the worst state I could be in, so I’ve accepted it. Used it, even.
A short attention span is still long enough to wind some yarn into balls, order a new sock pattern, make a sandwich, and chat on the phone. It’s long enough to decide that I must have some different furniture if I’m to stand living in this tiny apartment for much longer. Not major furniture, just something to hold the television and stereo that takes up less space. And my mother’s Swedish gateleg table instead of that ugly Ikea desk.
Short, scattered attention is also just the right thing to have when discovering that yes, indeed, my yarn is not immune to moths. What on earth made me think that I can live a charmed, mothless life? Haven’t I had wool in my life for nearly thirty years? And moth infestations so massive that wholesale purging was the only solution? Just because that basket of yarn held sweet, pretty sock yarn, did I think it was moth-proof?
If it hadn’t been for my current state of mind, I might have cried. Instead, I made a quick and dirty assessment of the situation and moved on. All in all, I lost just four skeins (I’d rather not knit socks from a ball that has eight knots, thank you). It could have been much worse. So, now I have to add “Be Vigilant” to my list of Things To Do, don’t I?
Here’s my Garter Rib scarf, all finished and christened by the wind at the bay. It’s very warm, and I like that it feels like a sturdy scarf, one that I can throw on, wrap twice, and laugh at the weend.