If you ride horses, you will come to recognize a point at which, while you haven't technically fallen off the horse yet, you are no longer capable of staying on. You're in mid-air, destined for dirt, and there isn't a fool thing you can do about it.
That was how I felt this morning. I'd crafted a schedule for the week that amazed even myself, but it had a tragic flaw--it was so hopeless intertwined that even one tiny screw-up would cause the whole thing to collapse. And there was just no way to get through the week without a screw-up. I really needed my daughter's tennis matches (high school district finals) to go off as scheduled today, because if they didn't go today they'd be pushed to tomorrow, and I had nowhere to move the stuff happening tomorrow. Wednesday was full. Also Thursday, etc.
When we woke up it was raining, and they couldn't play tennis in the rain, but I decided to be forcibly optimistic. I was going to control the weather with the power of my optimism. I put on my THS Tennis sweatshirt, and then I picked out the absolute PERFECT pair of socks.
I knit socks. I'd made this particular pair for myself several years ago, they fit beautifully, and I have always loved them. The pattern is Lenore; the yarn Blue Moon Fiber Arts Socks That Rock lightweight. I can't remember the name of the colorway, but it's the maroon one of their Raven series. The Raven yarns were first dyed a base color or colors, and then overdyed black, so that only a hint of the original color came through. Over years of washing my Lenore socks had faded so they are now a lovely marbled grey and maroon swirl--perfectly matching my daughter's high school colors.
Thus optimistically attired, I went downstairs to check the weather radar online. I was still in midair, still fighting for my balance, grabbing for reins. But the fall was already inevitable. My daughter came down the stairs. "Match's cancelled," she said, on her way to the kitchen. I went after her, falling, falling, my whole schedule with me, and as I turned from the computer suddenly felt my middle toe bare against the wood floor.
I'd punched a hole in my sock as I fell.
That was how I felt this morning. I'd crafted a schedule for the week that amazed even myself, but it had a tragic flaw--it was so hopeless intertwined that even one tiny screw-up would cause the whole thing to collapse. And there was just no way to get through the week without a screw-up. I really needed my daughter's tennis matches (high school district finals) to go off as scheduled today, because if they didn't go today they'd be pushed to tomorrow, and I had nowhere to move the stuff happening tomorrow. Wednesday was full. Also Thursday, etc.
When we woke up it was raining, and they couldn't play tennis in the rain, but I decided to be forcibly optimistic. I was going to control the weather with the power of my optimism. I put on my THS Tennis sweatshirt, and then I picked out the absolute PERFECT pair of socks.
I knit socks. I'd made this particular pair for myself several years ago, they fit beautifully, and I have always loved them. The pattern is Lenore; the yarn Blue Moon Fiber Arts Socks That Rock lightweight. I can't remember the name of the colorway, but it's the maroon one of their Raven series. The Raven yarns were first dyed a base color or colors, and then overdyed black, so that only a hint of the original color came through. Over years of washing my Lenore socks had faded so they are now a lovely marbled grey and maroon swirl--perfectly matching my daughter's high school colors.
Thus optimistically attired, I went downstairs to check the weather radar online. I was still in midair, still fighting for my balance, grabbing for reins. But the fall was already inevitable. My daughter came down the stairs. "Match's cancelled," she said, on her way to the kitchen. I went after her, falling, falling, my whole schedule with me, and as I turned from the computer suddenly felt my middle toe bare against the wood floor.
I'd punched a hole in my sock as I fell.
You are such a good writer.
ReplyDeleteCan you darn? socks or schedule, take your pick...
Oh, yes, I can fix the socks (schedule, sort of). I know how to darn, but in this case I'll probably just cut off the whole toe, pick the stitches back up, and reknit it. I very likely still have a remnant of the yarn, but if I don't I've at least got the same weight.
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