Tending To Allyson, Fiber Whore
My poor wife has been in dire straits today. She has spent nearly all of the day in an horizontal position on our couch. You may have read that she fell down a set of stairs. Well, she knocked her knee pretty hard. When she got up this morning and walked to our little home office, she nearly fainted from the pain of it all. In an effort to be a good husband, I drove to our local grocery store, picked up a twenty-pound bag of ice, bought some donut holes (to expedite healing, you understand), drove back home, and broke up the ice into several individual ice packs, so that my bride could keep her leg from swelling quite so much.
While I was separating out the ice (which I assure you is a Herculean task when the ice has refrozen as a singular solid block of frozen water), a gentleman from the apartment complex popped in to make sure that nothing in our apartment was leaking since the folks under us had a steady stream of water dripping in. He didn’t find anything and eventually took off. I waited a respectable amount of time to ensure he wasn’t coming back and then opted to go take a bath. After I had gotten settled in with my copy of Fever Pitch and a nice steaming tub of hot water, Allyson came in and told me that the apartment guy was back. I toweled off and dressed even though I hadn’t had an opportunity to shave or wash my hair. The fellow eventually said that he would be back in after lunch. I took the initiative to make a delightful lunch of seared tuna steaks with a sautéed mushroom and sour cream sauce, which I promptly plated and served, to a very stiff, groaning, and cold wife. I don’t consider it immodest to declare that my lunch was the best thing I’ve eaten in a matter of weeks.
I did manage to finish up my camera sock before work. I vastly prefer this new version for several reasons. Firstly, I never liked the purl regions of the thin orange stripes of the first version. Secondly, the camera had a nasty tendency to slide out of its cover when I flipped up my messenger bag to grab something from the inside pock. This new version is longer, allowing for the ribbing to do its designated puckering work at the top. I haven’t had any more problems with the camera slipping out. Thirdly, the stitches are so perfectly even throughout the whole sock. It’s like I knitted Plato’s ideal iPod/camera sock. Because I’m a good knitter, I promptly started working to finish the only other project I have on the needles right now (the companion alpaca sock that I was working on during my Massachusetts excursion). Unlike other knitters in the house, I am not a fiber whore who flits about the house from one project the other in a series of tawdry, brief, and passionate affairs.