The Olympics begin tomorrow. I’d like to tell you what I’m doing for my Olympic challenge, but I honestly haven’t a clue. Apparently I’m following the same plan as always: wait until the opening ceremonies start, then dash around in a beheaded-chicken panic, hyperventilating and cursing until I’ve managed to trash the entire house. When the flame is lit, I’ll be on the sofa, surrounded by tattered books and draped in odd strands of yarn, sobbing quietly while I randomly cast on something totally unsuitable and un-finishable in 17 days. This plan has never worked for me yet, but it does add a certain drama to the ceremonies. I’ll even be home alone tomorrow, and thus free to indulge in the full spectrum of wailing histrionics without having to care about blocking Himself’s view of the TV from his LaZBoy. (Not that I usually care; it’s the price he pays for bogarting the remote. But I digress.)
I know I won’t be making a cardigan. I don’t have enough worsted-weight yarn for one, and even I’m not silly enough to think I could finish a fingering-weight sweater in two weeks… though I will admit, I did spend an hour or so last night searching for my copy of Knit So Fine. Thankfully it seems to be missing, probably still packed in a box somewhere since I painted my office. This has likely saved just a little bit of my sanity.
I could knit Himself a pair of kilt hose. But it’d be a bit of a waste, seeing as my campaign to get him into a kilt is still failing dismally. Also, I’m not sure he’d wear them, what with the amount of psychic despair that will probably end up knitted into them… perhaps it’s unwise to compound Olympic stress with gift-making stress, it can’t be good for my blood pressure.
I could spin some yarn. But… my saxony wheel needs a rebuild, and my great wheel is confined to my office so I wouldn’t be able to watch any of the events on TV. I’m not sure if my shoulder can take 17 intense days of spindle spinning; it’s been giving me a bit of grief lately.
I’m beginning to think… perhaps a lace shawl. I have several splendid yarns that would do. I’m not sure if I’m a shawl kind of person, but there’s something to be said for making a big damn piece of lace, even if it does end up being given away.
Ah, well – no need to rush into making a decision now, I’ve still got 1 day, 12 hours, 47 minutes and 23 seconds.
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