I told one of my aunts about the current predicament I'm in... the issue with that shit-talking idiot chick. She, like pretty much everyone I've spoken to, suggested I ignore the bitch.
Me: Yeah, but when I think of her fucking stupid, stuttering fucking oaf face... I get SO FUCKING ANGRY!
Aunt: Oh, you know what's great at clearing your mind? KNITTING! It is SO relaxing.
This woman tried teaching me how to knit back when I was EIGHT... eight fucking years old.
That shit held my attention for perhaps... two weeks. I wound up giving all of my needles and yarn to my aunt, once I decided knitting was NOT my thing.
Fast-forward a little under 20 years and you have me finding a knitted scarf, 2/3 of the way complete.
I felt bad throwing it away, since the quality was pretty great... and I thought of the poor soul who killed her time knitting that shit. Plus, the yarn was soft... I wasn't about to toss that.
I told my aunt about the scarf, and promised her I'd give it to her so she could finish it, since I knew it was one of her favorite pastimes.
That was about two years ago.
FInally, this weekend I finally decided to bring the yarn and needles with me to give them to her as we did our usual gathering.
But this time, she didn't care for knitting... especially after hearing me rant.
She informed me I was going to finish the scarf.
After what seemed like an eternity of angrily staring at my aunt's hands, I sort of got the hang of it:
I didn't say I did it SUCCESSFULLY.
I'm sure you can tell where my incompetent ass started to massacre this poor work of art.
I'm also sure you can tell how I progressively become calmer. I start off all erratic... and end up tight and somewhat even.
I'm definitely not built for knitting.
Not sure if I should be excited or sad about this.
First, I can't have cats because it turns out I'm allergic... now this, where I discover I can't knit for fucking shit.
My plans for being a stereotypical catlady have gone to fucking hell.
Me: Yeah, but when I think of her fucking stupid, stuttering fucking oaf face... I get SO FUCKING ANGRY!
Aunt: Oh, you know what's great at clearing your mind? KNITTING! It is SO relaxing.
This woman tried teaching me how to knit back when I was EIGHT... eight fucking years old.
That shit held my attention for perhaps... two weeks. I wound up giving all of my needles and yarn to my aunt, once I decided knitting was NOT my thing.
Fast-forward a little under 20 years and you have me finding a knitted scarf, 2/3 of the way complete.
I felt bad throwing it away, since the quality was pretty great... and I thought of the poor soul who killed her time knitting that shit. Plus, the yarn was soft... I wasn't about to toss that.
I told my aunt about the scarf, and promised her I'd give it to her so she could finish it, since I knew it was one of her favorite pastimes.
That was about two years ago.
FInally, this weekend I finally decided to bring the yarn and needles with me to give them to her as we did our usual gathering.
But this time, she didn't care for knitting... especially after hearing me rant.
She informed me I was going to finish the scarf.
After what seemed like an eternity of angrily staring at my aunt's hands, I sort of got the hang of it:
 |
| Jesus... |
I'm sure you can tell where my incompetent ass started to massacre this poor work of art.
I'm also sure you can tell how I progressively become calmer. I start off all erratic... and end up tight and somewhat even.
I'm definitely not built for knitting.
Not sure if I should be excited or sad about this.
First, I can't have cats because it turns out I'm allergic... now this, where I discover I can't knit for fucking shit.
My plans for being a stereotypical catlady have gone to fucking hell.
1 comment:
If you can't knit, crochet! :D If I can (somewhat) do it, you'd be loads better!
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