Hell hath no fury like knitting scorned...

Dear Knitting,

I would like to apologize. No, I would like to deeply apologize for leaving you all these months. For stashing you in a bag in the corner or on the shelf next to the couch where you sat, a few rows completed, staring at me doing nothing (when time permitted). I gave you the occasional glance back desiring to pick you up and work you, but alas the television was more important in those few fleeting minutes.

It was easier to ignore you, even though you stared at me with those sorry looking stitches. At one point you were even crochet until I got fed up with looking at what you had become. I so mercilessly took the scissiors to you and threw away the offending crocheted piece (it was so awful I couldn't bear to frog). Then I let you sit there, with your sock brother in tucked away in his GoKnit Pouch.

Heck, you even had to endure a long distance relationship with Carlos's Scarf, which was tucked away in a bag at my desk at work! You thought he'd never return...

Until recently.

My renewed love for you has overwhelmed me. I've spend almost a solid 24 hours catching up on my projects, catching up on podcasts and television shows of the knitty variety. I've ignored Chris and forced him to cook for himself. I made him go get the Sunday doughnuts so I could have peace and quiet just with you.

However, I'm now feeling your scorn...

First, Clyde hooking me in the back with a claw tearing away what only feels like 12 inches of flesh (it's really maybe a quarter inch). I've never before had to struggle so hard trying to get her into her carrier to run to the vet for her post-op suture removal and once-over.

Then washing the car. Now, I can't say you had everything to do with this, but I know you had some involvement. I spent two loving hours out there washing "blue" down. Two loving hours away again from you, Knitting. Two hours in the most perfect weather, not too hot, not too cold and just enough breeze to make life seem perfect.

However, I did not wear sleeves, a hat, or sunblock. Now I'm red as a lobster knitting, and I know you're snickering at me.

What you did not know was that I was thinking of you the whole time.

So I've spend many hours since then turning you into a baby blanket that will eventually go to Alicia or Lisa. They'll wrap their newborns with you and give them love and warmth.

So why have you sunken the final nail in the coffin? I'm so sore I can't see straight.

My back aches from endless hours with you. I only took the occasional stretch break, potty break or dinner break. My arms are so sore and my fingers tingle. My shoulders burn and my legs are stiff.

You've humbled me. When I found that I had lost a stitch somewhere, I've learned I should never leave you again, I'm am but a lowly knitter and you are my knitting. I should hold you high and remember that one little stitch could mean the life or death of this piece. My sanity lies in you and I won't ever forget that again.

Sincerely,

Ann