Gah. Yesterday felt like a day wasted. I had to take my car to the garage for its annual check to ensure it’s roadworthy and that meant heading out to the town I used to live in (never give up on an excellent mechanic!) and trying to kill a few hours while I waited for the phone call to collect it. I brought some work, and a WIP in need of finishing, both of which I did in the first few hours. I had planned to bring more yarn so I could crack on with the next project but in the morning rush I left it behind. So I comforted myself with some window shopping on Etsy, and a new handbag which is a suitable size to take my WIP bag with me without having to cram it in. And I did some sketches of things I want to make next. But then I just wanted to get home and crack on with some crocheting or write up patterns. I was also due one, maybe two, yarn parcels and was experiencing some significant yarn-based separation anxiety. Yes, I have what is known in the trade as a ‘secure yarn attachment’. I am distressed by the absence of yarn, and elated and comforted by its reappearance. My husband (a biological psychologist) prefers to construct my hobby as an addiction, and has even said ‘your dealer has been…’ when he has spotted a yarn delivery waiting for me when I get home. But I’m not addicted, not really. I mean, I can give up any time I choose. Honest. I just need to finish this project first…
The Knackered Psycho 