So, I recently got overly obsessed with a series of books. (wheel of time, it’s 14 books with about a thousand pages each.) All of my free time went to reading them, and I mean ALL. I would sit down with my tea, (a nice Earl grey, because I’m cultured and shit) and read after every shift at work, and before.
For the past few days every time I read I’d get antsy, maybe jump up and do a few jumping jacks, then try to return to a world where women weave magic like I wish I could do to yarn! Then it hit me. (Not literally because even yarn, thrown with enough force, could hurt.) I should try to knit instead of reading! Or mix the two in a creative way! (that last one is a no-go…I managed to tie myself to the book. Still not 100% on how that happened.)
So! I pick up my needles and start a new project! A scarf, because it’s getting cold. And my neck was cold at the time. And BOOM! The ants-in-my-pants are sated! Ah how I missed making things with yarn! I’d like to believe the yarn missed me as well, in a soft, silky, I’m-just-string sort of way.