Knit One, Purl One
I recently took up knitting. Many of my friends are knitters. Those more proficient than I espouse the joys of knitting. The relaxing repetition of the needles clicking, clacking; the sense of accomplishment once a project is completed; the productivity of nervous energy – these were all reasons I was given as to why I, too, should try this hip, in hobby.
I am not a model knitter.
Knitting stresses me out. I find myself with my brow furrowed and my shoulders tense as I count stitches and try to keep the proper gauge. As soon as I start a scarf, I’m already obsessing over how long it will take me to finish it. In addition, I can’t knit and knit and knit as my friends do. I finish a row and I jump up to get a glass of water. I have my drink, I get situated just so and knit another row. Hmm. Did I ever answer that email about New Year’s Eve? Let me go check. I return from my computer and knit another row. I remember a magazine article I never finished. I get up to find it and finish it. I return to my knitting. This time, I will knit at least 5 rows before getting up. I do, but my hands begin to cramp, just like when I was learning to use chopsticks. I change the cd. I go to the bathroom. I return to my 2 inches of scarf that I’ve taken 2 hours to complete. I need a new hobby.