deconstruction

I can't sleep. I was so excited earlier about purchasing some $3 wine from Trader Joe's, excited that I'd be all toasty and fall blissfully asleep... but I guess I got too excited about it (and other things) and now I can't manage the zzzzz's. Exciting stuff is happening all around: One friend is starting a Stitch and Bitch in my neighborhood, another got promoted and gets to work the coolest shift EVER, another friend is possibly dating two guys, another just bought a house (quite literally, this evening!), my oldest is currently on her honeymoon, and I've figured out what my plan is. Why do these things feel it necessary to throw parties in my mind at midnight?! I can't sleep, but I can write... and unknit.

My Plan:

A few weeks ago I realized I was dead in the water, a floater riding the tides and rip currents to Slackerville. It took a few meaningless words from a delivery boy for me to realize that I no longer had a plan and was "just living." I took my current job to get a better idea if I'd want to go to grad school. Grad school got crossed off the list, so I stayed to see if anything better came along. Nothing better came along, so I stayed to have money to pay the cable bill. Once I realized that my plan had diminished to merely sustaining a continual source of 7th Heaven reruns, I started to freak out.

A further shock came shortly thereafter when I found out my job isn't as stable as I thought. A single math error could mean the difference between having a funding source until April or three days ago, and nothing I could do, spectacular or horrible, could change the fact that I could be dropped at a moment's notice.

I wracked my brain for a direction I'd like to take, but nothing came. There are things I'd like to do and then there are things I'm qualified to do, and the two don't necessarily coincide. But it's like when you are in a hurry to get out the door and your keys have gone missing. You search furiously to no avail, until finally you stop looking and they magically appear in your hand. As did my plan.

I stopped freaking out, I stopped thinking about it, and focussed on one tedious task at work. The machine I work with is always breaking down, and I discovered yet another problem to work on. I was victorious, and in the process, realized I could fix it all day if I had to. As long as I didn't actually need it to do anything for me, ripping its guts out and putting it back together is quite pleasurable. Also, it turns out I'm qualified to do such work! So I've got a plan again... and I'm excited. It's no house, but it makes me want to get up in the morning.

My Un-knitting:

I got size 3 (and sizes 1.5, 1.75, 2, and 2.25) needles this weekend and can now resume work on my socks! (Can someone please tell me why on earth a store would sell all kinds of sock needles and NO sock yarn?!) Meaning, I'm now prepared to rip back my midget sock. Here we go (with a random wedding photo from this weekend - look close and see my conehead)!


























I wrapped it all back up so now it is bag-portable once again. I'm taking it with me to work tomorrow (because I'll have short breaks of time and I don't want to read Science and Nature).

...Oh no, I'm an idiot! I just realized (Please tell me you've already noticed! HAHA!) I spent $10 on a pack of sock needles, NOT sizes 1.5, 1.75, 2, and 2.25, but 1.5, 1.75, 2, and 2.25 mm, i.e. sizes 000, 00, 0 and 1! What the hell is a tight knitter ever going to do with toothpick needles! I thought they were crazy half- and quarter-sizes! I thought I was being smart and preparing myself for possible future needle size changes! I'm just a knitting moron!