You may be right . . .
You may be right(Lyrics, Billy Joel, You May be Right)
I may be crazy
But it just might be a lunatic you're looking for
Turn out the light
Don't try to save me
You may be wrong for all I know
But you may be right
It was about four years ago that I finished my first pair of handknit socks and last night I had a dream about knitting socks -- particularly about starting a new sock when I already had single socks waiting for their mates to be knit (that's actually true, by the way). However, in my dream, I was experiencing the absolute joy and freedom of starting a brand new sock, shamelessly and totally guilt free. I woke up thinking how crazy that probably is to most people -- not to mention that non-knitters don't get the whole handknit sock thing in the first place. (Those who wrinkle their noses at my handknit socks simply don't get them as gifts. Their loss). There are no knitting police, but there are often haughty knitters who remind you that you already have single socks that need their mates. And yes, I already know about the concept of two-at-a-time socks. I have some on the needles now!
All I know is that when I saw my first handknit socks, I had to learn how to knit them. It took me a solid year -- perhaps almost two years -- to grasp the concept and actually learn how to knit them. Undeniably, it was one of the most difficult things for me to learn how to do, but I figured it out and count it among my proudest achievements. Sadly, somewhere along the way, I began experiencing the guilt (again, from other knitters . . . not from the loved ones who would eventually GET my handknit socks) about the unfinished pairs. I started feeling guilty about casting on and some of the pride of finishing a single beautiful sock was diminished by the finger-pointers. You see, I can finish a single sock -- the first sock -- rather quickly. I enjoy the entire process, start-to-finish (yes, even the grafting -- now one of my favorite parts, as a I always knit cuff-to-toe). But when one sock is finished, I desperately want to start another in an entirely different sock yarn. Yet I don't. Because of the guilt. Holy cow. How insane is that?
I'm starting another sock.
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