The Life and Times of Florence Knitingale

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Mr. K is a Funny Man

Really, he is. The amazing part is that he often doesn’t even know that he is. He just throws funny stuff out there, a natural comedian, and I am forced to be envious of the ease with which he can reduce me to hysterical laughter. To wit:

“Yeah, just pull that wallpaper off, throw up a couple coats of paint…shouldn’t take you too long.”
“I only channel surf during the commercials. And I’ll remember what channel you were watching, don’t worry.”
“I’ll be ready to go in plenty of time.”
“I’ll drive” which is not at all funny by itself, but takes on new heights of hilarity when followed about 10 miles down the road by “So, do you know where we’re going?”
“Why would you be insulted because I said your butt was big and full?”

And so on. But the real capper is this one: “Don’t worry.” Because, as we all know, Ms. Knitingale is a worrier of Olympic caliber. I worry that I haven’t studied enough. I worry that the cat feels unloved. I worry that anyone seeing my yarn stash will think I’ve lost my marbles. I worry that I don’t have just the right yarn for Eris. I worry that I’ll NEVER find the right yarn for Eris and will end up never making it after paying for the pattern. I worry that the waistband for the Samus cardigan will be too big if I make the size I was going to, but too small if I don't (there's a one-repeat difference in the sizes.....and one repeat is 32 rows) I worry that the fact that I blanked briefly on the PIN for my debit card means I have early onset dementia and in another week I'll be wandering down the street naked to steal the neighbor's pea gravel once piece at a time (I had a relative who did that...which is worrying, don't you think?). I worry that I don’t cook truly healthy meals for my husband and that I'm inadvertently turning his arteries to granite. I worry that no one will read my blog. I worry that everyone will read my blog and it won’t be funny or interesting and they’ll think I’m a dork. I worry that if the cat doesn’t stop kneading on my lap my thigh will look like a colander. (This last is a very current worry.) I worry that I dress like my grandmother. I worry that I dress like a teenager. If I can’t find something to worry about, I worry about that. You’re getting the picture, yes? Today, however, is the winner. My beloved Mr. K (and he knows I adore him beyond all reason, in spite of making gentle fun of him) got online this morning and learned, via the news, that the company he works for has been sold. His response was much like this:

Mine was more like this:

And he said, of course, “Don’t worry.” No prob. While you’re at it, how about you tell me to cure stupidity, stop the lawn from growing while keeping it green, and stop buying yarn? Because really, any of those would be easier than not worrying. (Okay, so maybe not the yarn thing…..I got a little carried away there…..).

Mr. K is a scientist and the biotech firm he works for was purchased by Eli Lily for $2.1 billion. I can’t even imagine how big that number is (and I worry that my inability to imagine this says something about the limited capacity of my brain). As a very experienced scientist with many, many skills and talents, Mr. K is unconcerned. The new company will keep him or it won’t. Either way, he’s good. I worry that I’ll never unpeel myself from the ceiling where I’m plastered in abject panic.

Intellectually, I know he’s absolutely right. It's fine. He may not lose his job and, if he does, he'll be in demand. It's not a problem. But, even as I say that, I worry that the fates are shaking their heads, murmuring in hushed tones that “she never learns, does she? Do you want to smite her, or shall I?” And smiting sounds bad. I’m not totally sure what it involves, but it definitely sounds like something to avoid.

So I’m fretting here at Chez Madwoman, and not with really any good reason. The "best" part of it all is that the deal won’t be done until the end of the year or the beginning of the 2007, so we probably won’t know until then what will happen next. And I’m pretty sure my eyeballs will pop if I attempt to maintain this level of panic for that long, which also sounds like something to avoid. So I’m breathing, and I’m plucking the cats claws out of my leg (even as she determinedly and cheerily reinserts them), and I’m trying to turn my worry to something more useful, such as today’s quiz in A & P, which I worry that I may not have studied enough for. See? Better already.

Oh, and I could also worry about this sock:

…which is a slightly cobbled together idea born of the twin facts that I love this lace pattern but prefer toe-up socks so the pattern is essentially upside-down as compared to the designer’s original intent. I may get it all the way up to the top and decide it looks ridiculous….hey, that’s a good one. That should distract me for some time. (Should I worry that it took me three tries to spell ridiculous right….? Maybe my mind is going…..and I’m in school so I need to be smart….yeah, that’s pretty good, too…..)

On a more serious (and grateful) note, I have to thank all of you for your kind words regarding my post about my dad. It touched and continues to touch my heart. I have my comments sent to my inbox, and I saved a bunch of these ones in a folder to keep because they mean so much to me. I recently went to a family reunion with him, and I was surprised at how much it meant to him. A few hours, that was it, and you would have thought I’d offered to take him to the moon for free. It’s the little things, I guess. I’ll take the advice many of you offered and keep reaching out. I can’t get those Sunday afternoon football games back, but I can build some good stuff now. As always, you guys continue to rock.


  • At 9:58 AM, Anonymous Childe said…

    I'm beginning to worry about you ... .

  • At 10:15 AM, Blogger Ms. Knitingale said…

    See? Worry is contagious! No, seriously, I'm fine. The truth is that we're in a good place and Mr. K is very much in demand for his skills and experience. Whether the new company keeps him or not, he'll do very well. But you're so sweet to fret on my behalf!

  • At 11:22 AM, Anonymous Marianne said…

    You know about the 3 initial responses to something, right? As in, 'yum', 'yuck', and 'yikes!'...well sounds like this 'news' could qualify for a yikes! but, dudette, trust your dude. (I do). Sounds like he may be looking at it with somewhat of a yum, when it's all said and done.
    (But I'm with you, I tend to fret a bit..heh...gee, wonder if this high anxiety is connected to the fretting???)

  • At 11:24 AM, Anonymous Marianne said…

    I fret that I'm losing my mind, wonder why?
    I'm loving the socks! Good knitting!

  • At 12:30 PM, Blogger Charity said…

    Ah, Flo. Sometimes, I'm worried how much alike we are! I would be on the ceiling with you. Take a deep breath, hold it for 5 seconds, exhale for 10. Really. It sounds simplistic, but I find it helpful. :0)

  • At 9:05 PM, Anonymous Jill said…

    Cuddle your cat, play with your yarns, and have a nice big cup/pot of tea/coffee and relax. Things will work themselves out.

    Of course while I'm typing that I'm ignoring the zillion+ things going on in my head right now!

  • At 9:40 PM, Blogger Faren said…

    Things have a way of working themselves out, I'm sure things will be fine. And while his calmness about the whole thing might drive you crazy, can you imagine if you both worried as much as you do?
    Your post about your father touched me, but I couldn't find the words to express it. Thankfully, while I wish my Dad and I did communicate more, we do talk, and both know that we love each other and actually say it.
    Thanks for the picture of the cat, I enjoyed the laugh.

  • At 8:55 AM, Blogger Peg said…

    Oh dear, Ms. K, I won't tell you to stop worrying, cause you would worry about that comment! It will work out fine!

  • At 6:46 PM, Blogger Lynn said…

    I totally get it about the blind panic when Spouse is about to be out of work.

    Glad to read from subsequent posts that there is some joy in Mudville.

    In my case, the children's father had about 2 dozen jobs in 10 years, and we sent him to school for some ridiculously expensive retooling, and that didn't work out either, and he defaulted on the most expensive student loans [are you dizzy yet?] and since then he's had umpteen more jobs. Which is why I live here, and he lives elsewhere.

    So I'm always relieved to read of a situation that seems similar on the surface but has a much better prognosis for Happily Ever After.

    *Loved* the photo of the scaredy-cat, and most of your gift card suggestions, which I found after following Jo's lead.

    Hang in there, happy studying, and please keep writing.

    $2.1B. Kindof brings the late Carl Sagan to mind, doesn't it?


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