My husband would leave me...

My friend, Helen, came over today for a lesson in knitting socks with dpns.
The original plan was for us to meet at the coffee house in town at noon but at 10pm last night, my husband called to me downstairs. Seems our water tank was causing a bit of a problem and was leaking through the ceiling and all over the floor. So my plan of going into town was thwarted by a possible ceiling collapse and an impending visit from the plumber who will be here "sometime this afternoon". In the interim, we have no heat, no hot water, and some bits of stuff coming out of the pipes that I'd prefer not to consume (a great big thank you to Brita filters!). And no hope of getting into town since we all know that "sometime this afternoon" means around 6pm. In the meantime, we have buckets and bowls capturing the rust-coloured water that is dripping from the ceiling.

So Helen came to my house. When she got here I was making shortbread so I had a valid reason for turning and leaving the oven on in order to heat the downstairs. I made some tea and we sat down on the couch where she pulled out her cast on socks...and showed immediate distress.

"I have wool on four needles and an extra one left over. That's right, isn't it?"

I assured her it was and proceeded to show her how to join the yarn so she was, indeed, knitting a tube that would later become a sock and how to do so without twisting it. I knitted the first couple of stitches and told her that I would frog it so she could have a go.

"Oh, don't do that. I'll just work from where you've left off."

So she did. She did fine from that point on with the odd "I'm not sure this looks right" at which point I assured her that it looked as it should and would look better after a few more rows. I'm hardly worried about her; she's been knitting lace patterns and diagonal stitches at a point in her knitting career when others are still trying to figure out just what a purl stitch is. It would seem that no one ever told her she shouldn't progress until she's figured out the basics. I love that about her. We knitted until 2pm at which point she needed to leave to pick up her kids from school and, wouldn't you know it, still no plumber.

"It's a shame", said Helen. "I could have given you a ride into town had the plumber been and gone."

Before she left, I showed her my booty from the yarn stockist where they have the whole of their yarn department on sale. All of it. Every last yummy ball of 100% superwash merino and every ball of kid mohair. Every bit of Sirdar Cashmere Merino Silk. All the Luxury Soft Cotton. I pinched myself to assure myself I wasn't dreaming and once I wiped the drool from my bottom lip, I proceeded to the checkout with my findings. I only made it out with 10 balls of Sirdar Sublime Extrafine Merino but have plans for another trip when I get paid again. Helen said she was almost out of yarn and that she needed to stop by the store and get more whilst it's on sale.

"Out of yarn?" I asked? "I can't imagine that."

She said that she only buys enough for the project she's working on.

"But don't you have a stash?" I asked.

"A stash?"

So I showed her mine. First was the cabinet in the living room.

"Wow, that's a lot!", to which I replied that there was more upstairs. Raised eyebrows. Off we go to the computer room and into the wardrobe where I opened four drawers to expose various bits of fiber. She thought we were done when I left the room and she started for the stairs...or perhaps she was just frightened and was looking for a way out. No matter, I took her by the arm and into the bedroom we went where I opened a drawer of my dresser that was packed full. "Oh my." I told her there was one more place and took her to the guest bedroom where I pulled out four baskets, opened six nightstand drawers, a small trolley with two drawers, a rollalong case with enough yarn for a king-sized blanket, and a yarn tote with about 10 skeins in it.

"My husband would leave me." I think she'd gone white.

"Knitting isn't so much a hobby as an addiction", I told her. I think the only reason my husband hasn't left me is because I keep promising to knit him a sweater.

She left to go pick up her kids and we bid a fond farewell and promised to get together next week to check up on each other's sock progress. I still think she's a bit spooked, to be honest. I do hope to see her again...especially as she's borrowed two of my books.

It's now 5:45pm and I still haven't heard from the plumber. I've accomplished little today, aside from casting on for my husbands socks which I've been promising to knit him for two months. I haven't taken the dog for a walk because I know that the moment I get around the block, the plumber will ring me to say he's at my house and we'll have to turn around to come home.

The dog is depressed, I'm frustrated because this is the only day I can get into town until Saturday when I'm off from work and I have dozens of things I need to do there, and I've consumed way too much shortbread and coffee.

And it must be said: daytime tv sucks.