Knit-Along II: knit's Feather and Fan Shawl - Part 2

Just say “yes”

There will be no photos with today’s entry. It’s not the kind of carnage I’d willingly showcase. Today’s installment is an ugly tale of entanglements, a saga of stupidity, the age-old drama of woman vs. hank and what happens when you give the wrong answer to “would you like us to wind that into balls for you?”

When some nice yarn store staff member asks the considerate question, “would you like me to wind that into a ball for you now?” YOU SAY YES. You don’t think, “Oh, I’m a perfectly capable human being. I have opposable thumbs and a college degree from a well-respected institution of higher learning. I can wind string into a ball.” No, you smile, nod, and say “Why, thank you so very much. I’d be delighted if you could wind that for me.” Why? Because…

1) Balls of yarn pack better than hanks
2) Hanks can untwist in your suitcase, which is very bad indeed
3) Even if you make it home with your pretty hank intact, chances are you don’t own the nifty gadgets for winding yarn into balls, which means you’ll foolishly consider doing it the old fashioned way—two people, one with the hank around their two hands, the other person winding. Not fun, time consuming, only looks good in paintings of Amish people and 18th century domestic scenes
4) You might be me, in which case you do the dumbest thing of all

And what--because I KNOW you’re asking--is the dumbest thing of all? It would be to decide to unwind your hank on your own, using your two feet propped up against the coffee table (because your children are smart enough not to want to get involved), beginning at 10pm. Because, really, that’s when the good TV starts, right? And this is the perfect TV-watching activity.

It’s like childbirth—your brain blocks out the torture of the last time you did it. You think, “this time will be different, it won’t get tangled.” It’s funny how that thought doesn’t occur to you at 2:00am when you’re hacking at your beautiful yarn with needles and scissors trying to get the last twelve yards of the splendid stuff from looking like a very unfortunate, very colorful sea urchin. You forget that it takes HOURS to wind five balls of yarn by hand. You forget that you just can’t stay up past 1:00 am like you used to when you were younger. You forget that at some point during those hours, if you’re a woman past thirty (or even if you’re not), you’re going to have to put the yarn down to go to the bathroom. And you can never put the yarn down…

I won’t go into details. I’ve set your imagination off in the darkest of directions. It wasn’t pretty. I’ll never, ever do it again….