Twists of Fate

Can you give yourself caffeine poisoning by drinking two twelve-cup pots of coffee in four hours?

It has not been a good week. Had a big family to-do a couple of days ago, and I am still reeling. No one on earth has the power to wound me more deeply than my family, and that’s saying something. I am adrift and rudderless in a sea of tears and emotion, and if I’d won the MegaMillions jackpot last night, all you would see of me right now is my dust as I cut bait and run. Far, fast, and very much away from here. A weeks worth of undies, some jeans and t-shirts, my bathroom kit and arrangements for someone to pack up the rest of it and stick it in storage, and Bali, Tahiti, Hawaii or Fiji? Here I come.

Alas, I didn’t suddenly trip into an ocean of $100s, so I am left to empty yet another box of kleenex, and try not to snot all over my knitting. I still can’t concentrate very hard on any one thing, so I gaze at the mountain of yarn that apparently marks me as a slob and ponder beginning a new project or seven. Seriously, they’re honestly bothered by my stash to the point of demanding that I get professional help about it. I have never wanted Stephanie to magically appear in front of me and beat them about the head and shoulders (or not, as she seems to be one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and the only way that might happen is if you take away her coffee three days before her final deadline or something), in defense of knitters everywhere.

Sure, the stash is bigger than some, but way smaller than many. It’s just another symptom of their desire for me to conform to their standards, their ideas of the kind of person I should be. I nearly strangled them both with my WIP, but you know what? Not worth the effort. And, by the by, no more hand knitted gifts from me either. Guess I’ll have to find another teeny person to give that Fall IK ‘06 mohair sweater to. And forget the yarn I was eyeing to make brother mine a sweater for the holidays. I’m of a mind to actually give them a giant lump of coal each.

Maybe I’ll just save the tags from the fleeces and put them in a gift bag instead.

Anyway, very down. Not much fiber happenings, er, happening. May leaf through Big Girl Knits and try not to hear their voices telling me that fat can’t possibly be healthy, but it sure is ugly.