Petunia rambles on

I get up for work early, stagger out to the kitchen, and thank all that is holy for the concept of a coffeemaker with a timer that has the coffee ready to pour as I approach. Otherwise, I would just stand there, stupified, and cry silently. It usually takes a while for me to wake up and find my intelligence, rarely remembering where I might have left it. I habitually waste time early on, not realizing what I’m doing, then race around like a lunatic because I’m running late.

The other morning I was in Lunatic Mode. At the last minute, as I should have been going out the door, already had my coat on, I thought of a gift I wanted to make for a friend, and thought, “If I take the yarn and needles to work with me, and it’s slow, I could get it started.” No problem with the yarn. With this same gift in mind for 2 different recipients, I had stopped at the big local craft store and bought 2 skeins of Paton’s Classic Wool – one will be enough for each gift.  And stupidly left the bag right on the damn kitchen table, making sure that I gave Himself the opportunity to say, “Oh, I see you went to A. C. Moore today while not spending any extra money. What a surprise! There’s yarn in the bag.”  OK, so taking the yarn with me won’t be a problem. Pattern. Got it off the internet, so even though I can’t print another one right now because I have 400 sheets of paper jammed in the printer, I can easily get the pattern at work. Needles. What size did I use? I just made this item 2 weeks ago – I should be able to remember what size needle I used. It was a good-sized one, I remember that. The Classic Wool is worsted weight so it wouldn’t have been made on a wee fine needle. I had already shut off the computer and was now running later.

Just then Pop came out of the bedroom, still half asleep. He gets to sleep in later because he doesn’t have to be to work as early as me. In desparation and more as a joke than anything else, I said, “Paul, what size needle did I use when I made this?” and held up and dangled the last finished item. This is really a joke as he cares less about my knitting than the dog does if that’s possible. He knows slightly more than she does, though, such as the cost of the last batch of sock yarn I bought – Note to self: shred receipts immediately and he knows how to use a needle gauge.

He looked at me, still dazed and confused with sleep, and mumbled, “Six.”

“Do you know that? Do you really know?”

“Yes,” he says, “size 6,” and he says this with an aura of knowledge about him.

Well, this is a good thing, as I had several “6’s” handy, but I was mystified, so I had to ask, “How do you remember?”

“That night when you started on that one?” he said, pointing at the knitted item in my hand. “Well, you were going around here in a frenzy, looking for something, and I asked ‘what are you looking for?’ and you were so mad. You know how you get when you can’t find something. Well, pissed off, you yelled, “Six, Six, Six!!”

“And I never hear anything right and thought I was gonna get lucky.”