Verily, it sucketh

So I officially did not knit (much) for two weeks. I allowed myself to knit across one needle of the sock-in-progress per night, just to take the edge off. It didn’t work. The edge was very much on.

Though it did occur to me that if I knit socks using magic loop or two circs, knitting across “one needle” would afford me considerably more knitting each night. Much like “one glass of wine per day” can be served in a glass that more closely resembles a feed trough. If you live in my house, at least.

Anyway, this no-knitting edict coincided unfortunately with some really lousy stuff in my personal life. What, you may ask, is a sad librarian-in-training who suddenly has a whole lot of (non-knitting) free time to do? If you guessed “read” or “clean” or “exercise,” you’d be way off (though I'd certainly be flattered). If you guessed “watch TV and cry all the time,” you’d be getting warmer.

Thank goodness, then, that my two week knitting exile finally ended. And Monday was a holiday. I had a fully stocked refrigerator, delicious recipes to cook and a pair of socks to finish.

Which was a lovely plan. Except instead, I was completely knocked on my ass by the plague the flu and too sick to knit. And barely energetic enough to be pissed about it.

Expect a return to our regularly scheduled program of bad sizing decisions, irresponsible tweed lust, and staggeringly inept frogging errors any day now.

Just as soon as I have the energy to do more than cough and make tea.