Friday, June 30, 2006

Like looking for a needle in a leather sofa...

All was apparently well, knitting and otherwise:

1. I had gotten a major pat on the back at work;

2. I was really loving the sock now; just at the point when I could imagine what it would look like finished;

3. We got a congratulatory letter from Gavin Newsom (about our wedding);

4. The raspberry sauce for my father in law’s birthday cake was finished and perfect;

5. I had worked a few rows of the triangle shawl;

6. I cast on and worked a few rounds of the Floral Gathering Sac.

All signs pointing to productivity, I decided to swatch the yarn I planned to use for the Debbie Bliss Aran sweater. I opened my scrupulously organized needle case to get my size 8 straights.

There was only one in there. Just the one. All by itself. WTF??? Let my fingers do the walking through the compartments – all was in order, except for the glaring gap where that other size 8 should be. Okay. Deep breath. I felt around in the stash basket and in my project bags. Back to the needle case, this time emptying every compartment and re-sorting the needles. Sip of wine and back to the stash basket and project bag. I emptied both and re-sorted. I was really starting to get alarmed now, because my knitting stuff, apart from being an investment in creativity and preservative of my sanity, is impeccably organized. Usually. However, there was obviously a giant, gaping hole in my process if a needle had gone missing.

It wasn’t on, under or buried in the couch; there was no evidence that the dog had eaten it (you think I am paranoid, right? She has eaten photo corners, cash, gum, a stash of a different sort belonging to a former housemate…). Nor was it rattling around the coffee table or anywhere on or near the bookshelves.

Upon the assurances of my always calm and reasonable husband, I called back the search party for the evening. I am still perplexed, but I suspect I will find myself picking up another pair of Clover Bamboo Size 8 straight needles today. I have an unprecedented urge to swatch.

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