The Problem With Thinking Ahead.....

I'm sure fifty stars will thud to the ground in some ceremoniously sacrificial rite for me even having to audacity to say this like it might be a surprise to anyone but, ya'll know, I'm not exactly the most organized individual on the planet. Nor do I claim to have ever even dipped a toe in the well of wisdom or even been accidentally splashed whilst walking by (which would probably only have ended in me slipping on the splash and falling without grace or candor on my butt because, let's face it - I'm also not very coordinated LOL). But, I've always sort of held the belief that not being naturally inclined to something is no reason or excuse to relent and give up on the concept entirely. Of course, there are extremes to which I think I'm done testing myself in hopes of perfecting or attaining in ample supply the qualities I lack but, nonetheless, it's good to give it a try now and then.

Lately, I've been experimenting with organization and (gasp) planning. I know! While it has not been an antidote to the chaos that seems to have become the theme of my life, it has been kind of, well....neat. You know, dinner makes it to the table a little earlier than, uhm, just before bedtime and it is often well planned and represents the food groups that extend beyond the essentials: coffee, chocolate and salad. I've even begun to organize my work day a bit so that there is actually some time just after dinner each night wherein I can delight in spinning a bit or knitting feverishly to finish socks for no apparent reason other than the fact that I needed to torture myself with a fictitious deadline (more explanation on that later), or just play a quick game with the kids before bedtime.

All in all, I'd say that this whole organization plus planning ahead plus being practical and not expecting to be able to do 210 things that take 1 hr. each in one day because, well, when you've mapped it out on paper and you're out of hours, it seems more real and believable than if you're just going along in your head saying, "yeah, I can do that, sure, I'll do this, too," is going pretty well. It is hard to keep our fantasies about doing everything now so we can have oodles of 'free' time later in check, non?

The problem with thinking ahead, for me, is that it is a sort of snowball effect over time. Once I begin, I just can't stop and I tend to get just as confused about timing when I'm ooober organized as I do when I'm hopelessly behind. You may be screaming 'middle ground' at me right now but, trust me, you'll lose your voice doing that and I'll still likely be singing, "la la la, I can't hear you". I can hardly ever find middle ground and, when I do, I'm generally so in need of it that I drink it in, relax in it a while, and retreat until I get restless again and go searching for more chaos.

I thought I had June mapped out pretty tightly.....though I've been feeling my grip slide for weeks, now. First, the Frolic was way earlier than I'd expected. 'Way' meaning just a few days but still falling on the first weekend in June instead of the 2nd and, therefore, flabbergasting me as I'd planned on it being the second and, therefore, it was supposed to be - LOL. For some reason, in addition to that little 'slip of the mind', I had myself fairly well convinced that Father's Day was today. I operated, sadly, under that illusion until yesterday when a consult with the calendar defeated even my most powerful assertion that it HAD to be Father's Day. I'd bought the dinner, I'd worked like a dog finishing the Dad socks, I'd cleared the schedule for today so we could all just hang out and dote on Dad. Ahem, my only mistake being the whole 'consult the calendar (reality) then plan' part. Sheesh.

Oh well, at least I'm ready for next Sunday and the Dad socks are done. You may not recognize the Dad socks - traitors that they are. They are made from the 4 ply cabled fingering sock yarn that I spun, remember? Yeah, the yarn that took me FOREVER to finish but I thought it would be worth it because it is made from the lambkin roving so it ooooober soft and lamby and would also wear sooooo well because, you know, 4 plies of tiny strands to make a good light fingering usually equals excellent wearing ability. You don't remember it? Of course not! Because yours truly was so ooo excited when she returned from the Spring Fling that she forgot to show it to you (slaps self on forehead and rolls eyes along with everyone else). Anyhoo, here it is. No special prep for this one. I just split the lambkin dyed in "nature walk" into four equal strips and started spinning. I ended up with close to 450 yds. of 18 wpi sock yarn. I was smitten. I was thrilled. I knew we were destined to be together, always, and so I did what any other sensible knitter would do - I threw my other WIPs outta the way and cast right on for some knee socks.

Only, the yarn was not sharing my visions of our future together. It started talking to me which I don't usually mind. I mean, everyone likes to knit a handspun yarn that says affectionate and passionate things to them whilst they knit it, don't they? looks around the room in hopes of hearing a 'yes, sistha'... This yarn was saying soothing and passionate things, all right, but not for me. Woe! The pain of love betrayed! The yarn said it wanted to be for the huscreature. We had many arguments about it whilst I was working on the simple ribbing for the cuff to stretch around my calves because, after all, this yarn was for me, right? Right...not! Turns out, as fate or senility would have it, I had cast on the exact right amount for his calves, not mine. Sob! I still proceeded to argue with it:

Me: you were meant for me and I worked extra special hard on your fancy cabling. Don't you feel any sense of obligation to love me since I took you to the spring fling and everything to work on you? Don't you remember those long nights I spent plying you and saying over and over to you that you were sooooo good looking?

Yarn: you are selfish. Don't you realize how many times he's picked me up and commented on how much he loves this colorway? Don't you know how hard he is to please as far as color blends go? Are you mad, woman? You could attain valuable points by giving him socks made from me!

Me: Yes, but I have two problems with that. One being that I worked so freaking hard to spin you and, therefore, want you for myself. You know how he is with socks. One of the pairs I knit him, he lost. The other, he never wears. You won't be appreciated in his sock drawer like you will be in mine, trust me. Two being that I've already got a pair of handspun socks in progress for him.

Yarn: You mean the harvest socks that you've had in your WIP basket for nearly a year? The ones he's already told you he won't wear because he doesn't wear 'wine' colors? Are you not hearing the voice of reason,yet, and understanding that I am going to be his socks for Father's Day?

Me: What socks for Father's Day? I'm not making him socks for Father's Day, am I?

Yarn: triumphant, smug smile.

Urgh! Clearly, the pain of being ditched by my own yarn was so strong that I just decided to get the knitting done and over with. There were at least two days last week when the huscreature picked up the socks in progress and commented on how great they were going to look on me that I had to exhibit the most fake smile I could muster and murmur under my breath, "Put them down, I hate you, you sock stealing hussy," after he'd gone away. I became so deluded with rage and sorrow that I didn't even think to consult the stinking calendar to see what actual day Father's Day was - I was just hoping it was today so I could give away my beloved socks and be done with it. To console myself, I've cast on two pairs in the last 48 hours that will be mine if I have to turn into Voldemort and conquer the world to be sure of it - LOL.

Next week, I will present my finished project, re-configure the special dinner on the right day, and pretend that I am a gracious and giving soul but - know this - hell hath no fury like a woman who's been deserted by her own handspun yarn. It's bad enough that the one time in so many years I can't remember that I actually have the knitted gift I'm making someone ready on time, it happens to be the one I am most reluctant to part with. If he doesn't worship them. If he doesn't moan when he puts them on his feet (which are, btw, huge and so eternally boring to knit for that I've now asked Thing 1 to start surveying any prospective boyfriends and asking their shoe size, kindly weeding out the larger shoe sizes so that I can be assured I'll have no ghastly gift sock knitting sizes on the horizon) and promise to ever more keep them as kindly and gently as he would a soul mate - I shall probably hiss, arch my back, and scratch his eyes out. Until then, I am off to spin something that has sparkle and colors in it that I know he'll abhor. In fact, I'm thinking of changing my favorite color from green to something totally anti-huscreature like hot pink - only I despise hot pink, too. I mean, urgh! How does this happen?