Tuesday, July 17, 2007

S.O.C.K.S...A Very Good Thing.

It is fortuitous that I have elected to enroll myself in the Summer Of Compensatory Knitting Socialization. This program forces me to leave the confines of my home, interact with other knitters in their natural habitat and perhaps increase my pathetic social skills to some degree. It was particularly good for me to exit Sheepie's House of Yarn Induced Stress today. There was something of a fiber related "incident" that has obsessed me since last night with its utter stupidity. I needed a distraction.

Not that there aren't one or two issues associated with traveling an hour or so in a southerly direction during tourist season in Maine. There are the forty-six million people, all clad in Capri pants and who don't live here, that want to cross the street simultaneously. I know that they don't live here because they are using the crosswalks. Don't get me wrong. Mainers really do like the crosswalks. We are always so pleasantly surprised when a clump of walkers all decide to helpfully stay within the painted lines. We are often heard to comment on how useful this is when navigating the streets during the summer seasons and wonder how long these things have been around. We debate whether to add a few more around the state. We really do like the crosswalks. We just don't necessarily believe that the rules around their use should apply to us, is all.

Wait...where was I? Oh, yeah. The yarn. The yarn which is currently suffering my displaced rage.

It all started with the skeining. I've been spinning for a number of years now and have skeined my share of yarn. It's not all that hard. I even have a skein winder in order that my delicate wrists not be overburdened with the winding action imposed by the niddy noddy. I take the yarn off the winder in its circular state after tying it off in four spots using contrasting, colorfast acrylic yarn. It then goes into its bath for twist-setting. Once the yarn is nice and dry, I clip the offending acrylic and tie the skein using a matching yarn and a pretty ribbon to gussie it up a bit. Not all that challenging. And I pulled it off last night without a hitch...

Except that it didn't look as neat as I liked. I could have just left it. But, in my state of skein-related confidence, I decided to do it again. Make it nicer. Make it neater. Make it perfect.

And I dropped it. There was nothing to hold it together. I tried to catch it. All I snagged were a few errant strands. It slithered to the ground in a clump of matted lamb and silk.

Did I mention that I was performing this act of yarn stupidity in front of a fan? A fan that was cranked up to full power in order that I might make as much of a mess of this as was humanly possible?

I stood there for a moment, the full import of this event eluding me. As the degree to which I had screwed up this simple operation began to slowly sink in, allowing the full horror of it all to ooze though each cell of my brain, I cried out. I cried out in overly dramatic tones usually reserved for the moment just after a homicide or bad dinner theater:

Dear God, what have I done????????


I then began the process of untangling the yarn clot that was my beautiful lamb/silk handspun. This led to the rage. It was a profound rage that meant I could not attend to this task for any length of time. I now work on the untangling for a while, then set it aside when the rage threatens to boil over. It is displaced anger. I know this. It was my mistake, not the yarn's. The sweet little lamb, who did nothing save give of her soft, soft wool, does not deserve it. And I don't even like to think about the sacrifice that the little silkworm made for this endeavor. I'm really mad at me, but it seems healthier to roar at the yarn periodically.

"Stupid yarn! Why couldn't you just stay in my hands? You are very, very bad yarn! You deserve to be in a big, ol' yarn clot! That's right! You heard me! You don't deserve the time and energy I am taking to painstakingly return you to a form that makes some sort of sense to a knitter's eye. You are not cooperative yarn and you think that because you are pretty that you are better than other yarn. You are not. You are very, very naughty!!!"

See what I mean? Getting out of the house was a good thing. Seriously...

SA

14 comments:

Mel said...

Stop. Take a deep breath. Untangle. When it gets to be to much, go back to the beginning and repeat.

Beth said...

Oh man, I shouldn't have read that before bed. Now I'm going to have yarn nightmares.

catsmum said...

breathe Sheepie. Breathing is good.

Anonymous said...

Maybe in this lifetime you are to learn patience. Good Luck.
Karen
http://nothingbutknit.blog-city.com/

trek said...

You tell that yarn, Sheepie. The yarn should know who's boss at Casa de Sheepie.

If the untangling gets too much, you could try something different. That would show the naughty yarn.

Barbara from Nova Scotia said...

How very tragic. I bet a nice bottle of wine would help! :)

Lorraine said...

"Poor Sheepie," she snorts, as she mops up yet another nostril-projected puddle of coffee from the desktop.

kmkat said...

How... distressing. Clearly that yarn knew about Mercury coming out of retrograde (or whatever the hell it has been doing) and felt the need to show off one last time.

Jeanne said...

Yes, Mercury retrograde (all done)... OMG, OMGOMGOMGOMG OMG... I'm so sorry, Annie! Having just endured a 48-hour disentanglement of my Very Naughty Sock Yarn, I understand completely the shock, the horror, and the desperate wish that yarn came with an Undo Button...

Breathe, focus on the desired outcome, and take it one tangle at a time. Remember: you are SMARTER than the yarn. You shall conquer.

If that doesn't work, try chocolate. ;-)

Bobbi said...

LOL. Good to know I'm not the only one with undirected rage. Hopefully you'll get the yarn all sorted out and this will be a forgotten memory.

April said...

Well at least you haven't resorted to throwing it in the garbage. A practice I resort to frequently.

"Haha, YARN, take that. Into the garbage you GO. Buh-bye, yarn, buh-bye. See ya!"

Carrie K said...

Naughty yarn, relying on its looks like that. Those tricks won't last forever, you know! Wait. They might.

In front of a fan??! I will spare you the acronyms.

lobstah said...

"Forty-six million visitors, all wearing capri pants"--Oh, how I hear you! LOL!
Sorry about the yarn entanglement :(

Cathy said...

I can only imagine your rage. Good luck with it. I had some sage advice for you but there's people playing outside my window in the water. Hope that image soothes you.