Buried lede

I have spent WAY too much on yarn and needles since I took up knitting a couple of months ago, but because it’s the holiday season I am able to justify it all as “gift expenses.” As if I ever spend this much money on anyone I’m not currently sleeping with. Or hoping to. Wait, I’m married. Never mind that last bit.

So everyone is getting knitted things this year, and they better like it. Because it wasn’t that long ago that I had to fall back on the old standby of giving “gift certificates” for me to come over and cook a nice dinner, weed your garden, wash your windows — basically debase myself and be utterly servile in order to wash away the shame of not being able to afford presents.

I’ve actually become pretty good at this knitting thing in such a short period of time. I’m mean, I’m not setting the world on fire, but I’m at least adventurous and willing to experiment. Wait, when did this become a personal ad?

I stayed in Scarfland for only about two weeks, then I discovered hats and mittens, then I realized that everything would look much better if I knitted it with much smaller needles, so my gauge has gotten progessively smaller and smaller with each project. The last hat I knit has been widely assumed to have been store-bought, which is of course high praise.

I have only recently attempted to tame the Power of the Sock, a quest that has caused my first real moments of teary-eyed frustration so far. Some idiot convinced me to jump right into the Magic Loop method, which I think was designed to make you cry, and I have no idea why I listen to yarn shop bullies. But Yarn Shop Bullies would make a good band name.

But wrassling with socks is doing a good job of distracting me from today’s very distracting news that I might actually get my wish for a megafuckingbrilliant job. Keep those fingers crossed, and maybe I’ll reward you with some naughty knitted knickers. oooh yeah.

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