Socks to Dye For, Part Deux
I'm pretty much good with it. The downside, of course, is that having managed to dip two hanks of yarn in black dye without major harm to person or property, I can already predict that I will sometime soon be spending more money than sense on acres of undyed yarn and dozens of dyes. This is because I will have convinced myself that the above dyeing experience has miraculously changed me from "I wouldn't have a clue about dying wool if I was standing in a clue field during clue mating season covered in clue musk" to "I am brilliant and will give the good people at Koigu a run for their hand-dyed money." And, even as I recognize the all-too-familiar truck of stupidity and overconfidence bearing down on me, I am a deer in its headlights. I have no excuse, and I won't when I write the sobbing blog entry about the 6 pounds of mud-colored yarn I have managed to produce. When this day comes, and it will, I ask only that you be gentle with me.
My other activity for today is the retraining of my mind from "I don't know what's going to happen with the nursing school application thing so I think I'll worry it obsessively for the next three months" to "I don't know what's going to happen with the nursing school application thing and I can't do anything about it so I'm going to think about something else." Big leap for a control freak such as myself. I asked Mr. K how he handles things like this; as it happens, he has ADD and says that he can't obsess about anything for very long before getting distracted by something shiny. Not having ADD, I'm forced to let that solution go.
My method so far consists of "Man, what if they don't let me in over that damned license...? What am I going to do then....oh. Shoot. Quit obsessing. I know, I'll think about the next socks I'm going to make. That's it. I'll have enough black Koigu for another pair of mosaic socks...that would be cool...I could wear them to the interview for nursing school for good luck...I mean--damnit! Did it again. Okay, how about the pair after that? I have that lovely Angora Valley yarn, I could...." and so on. So far, I believe I've planned enough socks to outfit myself through 2057, as well as all of my neighbors, three local apartment complexes, the Radio City Rockettes, the business park at the bottom of the hill, and a small convent in Italy. And all of the cats (which is impressive, in that it requires twice as many socks to outfit a cat.)
Mr. K says I should take a page from Ed's book and, indeed, Ed has the market cornered on relaxing and worrying about nothing. Then again, Ed would also corner the market on Cream of Catnip soup if it was ever offered, and I'm pretty sure that my rolling around exuberantly on the floor the way he does would open up a whole new set of things to worry about. My committment proceedings, for instance. That seems like a somewhat bad thing so, socks it is.
And chocolate. Lots of socks, and lots of chocolate. Which, when I think about it, may actually be Knitingalenip.