Yesterday was my 36th birthday.  I had a really good day, even though I was at work.  It was relatively uneventful, and I got some pretty damn nice loot.  Then the father who hadn’t spoken to me in five years called.  It unnerved me, so I went for a drive.  When I was almost home, I saw the aftermath of a hit-and-run on the enormous cat who lived at the end of my block.  I’m kind of a mess about all of it today.

Is it odd that all I want to do to de-stress is go to the yarn store and get some yarn to knit socks and/or hats?  Is it odd that knitting or wanting to knit is my go-to activity when I’m an emotional mess?  I have a Clapotis on the needles that I want to be done, and I need to get it off my needles.  I want to have it done, blocked and sent to the friend who’s getting it.  I want to hear her giggle of happiness.  Then I’ll finish the Bamboozled and a half that I’m still working on.  Then it’s on to a pair of socks for me, maybe two.  Then a couple of Jayne hats for cousins in Colorado.

This roller coaster can end anytime, though when it does, there will be a sheep-farm full of knitted goods and balls of yarn.  True story.