A Letter to My Knitting Abilities


Dear Knitting Abilities,

Please stop freaking out on me, or Cthulhu will have us both for dinner.

I don't think you realize the time table I'm on, so let me explain this to you. We have approximately two weeks, just two, until Christmas. This means creating and finishing four gifts in only fifteen days, start to finish, conception to wrapping. So let me make this abundantly clear.

When a concept comes to mind, it has to work. There is no room for this wishy-washy demolition and recreation of every project in sight. There is no time anymore to take things apart simply because something's a little off, but you're not sure what. You, my dear Knitting Abilities, are under pressure to perform perfectly.

No freak-outs or temporary schizophrenia allowed.

I understand, this is a lot of pressure to put on one little sense of crafting. You have colors and textures and notions running rampant on a daily basis. I'm basically asking you to make all the tetris pieces simply fall into place. That's a lot to ask of any ability.

But you must understand: if they don't fall into place, the free world as we know it will come undone. Remember how I mentioned Cthulhu earlier? Yeah, he says I owe him again. And this ain't no mafia lord come to collect. This guy has tentacles.

Frickin' creepy, is what it is. Lava in the streets, etc.

Anyway. He owed me a while ago, and he delivered. But now, he says the favor he did me was in holding off the moving crazies until now, the holiday season. Supposedly our giant green friend held them off as long as he could, but I think his devious little mind deliberately put the crazies in the midst of what should be a rather joyful time of year.

Between you and me, my little knitty friend, I wouldn't have minded freaking out over new surroundings, oh, a month ago. I wouldn't have minded letting the adjustment take place immediately. But now Cthulhu's gone and let it fall in my lap, right on top of the tangles of yarn and twisted stitches.

Knitting Abilities, he's trying to pull the rug of my sanity out from under me.

So what I need you to do is this: just keep swimming. Make these upcoming projects work. Keep plugging away at it.

I'll be over by the door with my staff in hand, screaming, "You shall not pass!"

Hopefully I'll know what to do when the apocalyptic squid shows up.

Sincerely,
Your guardian against impending DOOM,
Allison

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