I've hit a new low

I always knit on the bus. Always. It makes the screeching of the three year old child whose mother is ignoring him fade off into the background. The woman who thinks the bus is her bathroom and uses her time on it to apply all of her makeup and spritz cheap perfume seems to virtually disappear. The man talking to himself ceases to be, at least in my little knitting fantasy world where everyone speaks in 'yarn pattern'. And the voices telling me to buy more wool aren't quite so loud.

So, my husband and I were on our way to the gym yesterday when I opened my bag to get my knitting and, to my horror, I discovered it wasn't there. I'd taken it out to put in my clothes that would be replacing my stinky, sweaty ones that would become stinky and sweaty after an hour and a half at the gym. It would seem that I had placed the bag containing my half finished gloves on my desk while I repacked my gym bag...and left it there. My husband, bless him, said not to worry because it was only another 20 minutes into town. TWENTY MINUTES! Twenty minutes without the thing that keeps me sane. Twenty minutes of listening to the screaming three year old. Twenty minutes of watching Makeup Girl curl her lashes, apply mascara, line her lips, apply lipstick, blot, apply lipstick, blot. Twenty minutes of wondering how the hell she doesn't ram her mascara wand into her eye when the driver hits a bump. Twenty minutes of hoping she does.

I made it to town. I'm not sure who was more frazzled, me or my husband for having put up with me. Before going to the gym, I had an appointment with my physiotherapist so off I went...and made a quick side stop at the charity shop that occasionally has a few balls of yarn for sale and always has a basket of knitting needles for 25 pence a pair and I found these little goodies:




I bought them. And I felt better.

I paid 50 pence for the yarn - acrylic, in case you're wondering so it will go into my stash for knitting vanilla ice cream colored preemie caps and socks - and was simply fascinated by the sheer length (14 inches!) of the dpns and just had to have them. I'll probably never actually knit with the things but the size of them is enough to start a conversation and scare the bejeezus out of my husband if I do dare ever use them.

The sad thing is, after all the time and energy spent lamenting about not having my knitting, people watching to the point of distraction because I couldn't knit to distract myself, and searching for something...anything...I could knit with, I didn't knit anything. I was just happy to have knitting supplies on my person.

This is the new low I have hit. I thought it was when I stalked a woman in the restaurant where I worked so I could figure out the cable pattern on her shawl. This has replaced it. I have to have workable yarn and needles on me at all times as a sort of security blanket. I might as well knit myself a nice little white jacket with sleeves that fasten in the back.

So if you ever see a woman on the bus muttering to herself and trying darned near anything to keep her hands busy, throw her some string and a couple of sticks. You'll either make a knitter who has left her project at home a very happy person or will be providing a crazy person the means with which to do herself serious harm. Or you. Either way, steer clear as those sticks need room to work.

And I will no doubt thank you for the string.