There will be another song for me
For I will sing it
There will be another dream for me
Someone will bring it
("MacArthur Park", Richard Harris)
Well, I came downstairs this morning and welcomed the day with a nice cup of coffee with vanilla creamer in it. I was feeling a little better about things. So I took my coffee to my knitting chair with the intention of working on a crazy pair of psychedelic socks I'm knitting. I knit my socks simultaneously so that they are finished together and I can avoid "Second Sock Syndrome".
Anyway, I sat down to my enjoyable task. I opened the vinyl Namaste knitting bag the socks were in to retrieve both of them. I had cut their yarns into long tails in order to add new colors to each. But I couldn't find one of the socks......
After quickly scanning around my knitting area to see if I misplaced it I panicked. Where was that stupid sock? I must have searched the area's every inch, high and low, muttering to myself things like "where in the hell is that damn sock?" or "when I find that sock I'm going to punish it by frogging it within an inch of its life...."
I looked all around my knitting chair and thoroughly through the things on my knitting side table. And I also looked thoroughly through the mass of knitting things underneath the table. I even lifted my heavy knitting chair to see it was under there! I was asking myself over and over: WHAT in the hell had happened to that sock?
And then I saw it.......
That little snip had stolen my sock! And it was a good sock because it was the first time I had ever successfully knitted a toe-up sock (I had only recently learned the technique). And I asked myself HOW in the HECK had she gotten inside the Namaste bag?
I tried to catch her but she was too fast for me.
Since I always talk to her in "baby talk", I found myself talking ridiculously to her in baby talk--- even though she was in trouble and I was totally ANGRY with her!!!
"Now give the sockee to Mommy, Little LuLu!"
" Dammit! Give the damn sock to her or she will 'pank you....."
But the baby talk didn't work. And she wasn't afraid of being 'panked. And she wasn't going to give up that sock.
She even showed off her "Dancing Tyrannosaurus Rex" skills---a thing that used to crack me up but was irking me no end at this particular moment...
Well.....shit fire and save matches, dammit.
I'm going to have to knit another sock. Because even if I got this sock back it would be saturated with cat spit and the yarn totally tangled up....