Propped my feet up, pushed my back against the back of the futon for support, and started knitting for the first time in nearly a week and was surprised at the intensity of the relief in those stitches.
Just a cowl. Anything heavier is unthinkable at the moment, but green silk with tiny clear glass beads would do. It had been cast on and a row or two done to get it started and then, being too yellow a green for my eyes, it had gone nowhere with the afghan nagging to be worked on. This was to have been a small carry-around for my purse.
Which would have been great if I were going anywhere.
But someone would love it–and I didn’t have to wind any yarn up to get it going again nor did I have to do that first fiddly little bit on the circs.
I thought I would do a row or two. I did a lot more than that before I finally had to put it down for sheer fatigue, but man did it feel good to be knitting again. To be creating, to be anticipating that someone out there was going to absolutely love this after it’s done, when I can go, Okay, now. Tell me who. Surprise me.