Frozen Sticks

Okay. Who PO'ed the weather deities? Who forgot to offer proper homage? The rest of us are freezing our cohoolies off because of you. As if that weren't enough, the aforementioned deities are PO'ed more than we thought. It isn't enough for them to freeze us to death. No. They want to bury us in snow. Now I realize that this isn't Canada and that our neighbors to the North probably think we are a bunch of wussies lounging in near tropical weather, but for us here in Greater Cincinnati, it is pretty freaking cold! You would think that polar fleece had not been invented.

The up side to the cold and crappy conditions is that it keeps one inside one's house where one can finish projects that have languished in the knitting bag for far too long, while getting caught up on the Netflix subscription. The down side to the cold and crappy conditions is that it keeps one inside one's house with one's spouse who is addicted to computer games and Stargate SG-1. It isn't just that the spouse is addicted to computer games and Stargate SG-1, but that said spouse is obsessed with having non-interested spouse in the same room listening to his added sound effects to those of the game and the t.v., while he shoots monsters and watches people walk through goo to alternate universes. This is not the most conducive atmosphere for knitting. What am I saying, conducive to knitting? It isn't the most conducive atmosphere for seeing one's husband as an adult and therefore romantic partner after he has slayed the beasts in the computer game.

I digress. Not only have the weather deities seen fit to punish an entire region, but they have also seen fit to punish me personally, I couldn't say why. I have a cold. The kind of cold where you are having an adult conversation and then your nose begins to run as if someone has turned on the tap and you stand there hoping the other person isn't noticing the river of snot running out of your nose. Trust me. There is no graceful way to take care of the situation. So, I am at home with tissues shoved up my nose, drinking hot tea by the gallon, watching Tivo'ed shows while knitting on a hat for hubby.

Things were going well until the ball of yarn escaped under the couch. I continued to knit. About halfway through the crown, the end of the skein dangled between my needles. The end of the skein and the last of the yarn I had bought for the project, not that I was surprised. Oh, are the weather gods pissed! I am afraid to make any kind of sacrifice for fear that the knitting goddess will become jealous and vent her wrath in much the same way as her weather counterparts. No. I don't want to become responsible for mass stash invasion by moths, broken needles, lost patterns, knitting plague and pestilence. Instead, I think I will make another pot of tea, pull out the mate for a sock, and hide the hat in the bottom of my bag until I can get out to get some more yarn.