Soggy Rage: A Knitter's Inspiration

My white hot fury over yesterday's derailed package delivery and the ability of a man in a truck to hold me hostage in my home fizzled out a bit last night. It sort of ended up as a kind of low simmering rage. I'm something of an "it is what it is" kind of gal under most circumstances and don't like to invest the energy it takes to whip myself into some sort of frenzy. But I will admit to finding it difficult to let go of the delivery company's somewhat cavalier attitude towards the whole matter. For all they know, it was life saving insulin in that box! I could be slithering to the carpet in a diabetic coma as they hoisted their mocha javas high, toasting their having gotten the best of yet another consumer.

The fact that it was not insulin and was, in reality, a low priced yogurt maker, is not lost on me. I'm just sayin' is all...

And to make matters worse, I'd had the gall to point out their inconsistencies with regard to the alleged delivery! I was unsure if this was going to come back to bite me in the hindquarters as they were still holding my package hostage, but I hoped for the best. What I got was another day confined to my home in high heat and humidity, a truck that did not pull up to my building but instead chose to conceal itself it the trees many yards away, a driver who, after being buzzed into the building by yours truly, was probably disgruntled because her sneak attack/delivery was intercepted by the recipient, and a package that was unceremoniously tossed onto the first stair to the second floor with the words, "I got somethin' for ya."

The door slammed and I was left with the realization that there was no signature required, no need for my actual presence and that anyone else who was home yesterday could have just as easily watched the box pitched onto the step as well as I. Live and learn. I'm past it.

Besides, last night's rage was good for something:

An aggressively knit sock. Or, as I like to call it, "The First Of The Rage Socks."

That one was finished with the tightest of stressed-out stitches and grumpily grafted last night. The second of the pair was born and grew a full three inches during the first half of my delivery-induced captivity today. I had to give up as the day progressed, though. We got us some significant heat and humidity going on here.

So, as if it makes perfect sense to add more heat and steam to air that is already so thick you don't breathe it so much as strain it through your teeth, I opted to continue dyeing the first few batts of merino. Due to the small amounts I'm dyeing at a time, there is a significant difference between the batches in terms of color depth. This isn't really a huge problem since I always end up having to card the wool one more time after dyeing to separate the fibers a bit and I can easily blend them at that point. But, I wasn't going to sit in this vinegar scented steam bath without a photo to show for it. I hand carded a bit just so you all could get the general idea:

The best of many, many bad pictures. This one gives a better representation of the color.

With all the package drama and rage fueled sock knitting, it seemed acceptable that I call this the start to the weekend and go pick up a little ice cream for tonight. My patience and willingness to overlook my desire to launch myself upon a certain delivery person deserved some sort of a reward. It is also possible that I am very hot and am looking for any excuse to eat ice cream, but I'm not going to examine this whole thing too deeply.

Before I sign off, I'd just like to let all the blogging folks out there in Minnesota know that I've read your posts reassuring us that you are well and safe with great relief. I am fully aware of the fact that any anxiety I may have felt is but a mere fraction of that being experienced by others in your area right now. My thoughts go out to those families who are still waiting...or worse.

It sort of makes waiting for a package seem, well...trivial.

SA