And no one understood.
My knitting goes everywhere with me, even if I have no intentions of knitting it. (Like that ever happens) It goes everywhere. There is no where I go that my knitting does not.
So when I went to trade my van in for a new van yesterday, naturally my knitting went with me. I knew I probably wouldn't have time to knit, but it is like the clean underwear thing. You never know when you will be in an accident, or end up stuck in a waiting room waiting to sign papers etc. So my knitting came along. I nestled it between the front and back seat where it always safely rides.
We got to the dealership, and went in to sign. I don't know how it happened, and I blame it on the new car smell and nerves... But I forgot my knitting. I forgot my knitting, nestled in the old van between the front and back seats where it always safely rides. I drove away in the new van without a second thought. My knitting is an extension of me, and like my arm I just assumed it came along. On the way home we stopped to get gas, then came home. It was then, when I went to grab my knitting and go inside, that I realized the extension of me was gone.
I drove like a mad woman back to the dealership. I had an extra key to the van that I had forgotten to drop off, so even though I knew the dealership would be closed it would still be alright. I could just nip in, grab the knitting, and sneak away like it never happened.
As we pulled up I was so glad to see the old van. Relief swept over me. I lovingly unlocked and opened her door (otherwise known as breaking and entering, I think) and reached in to grab my knitting.
Which wasn't there.
Here is when true panic set in. (OK, let's be honest. True panic set in long before now) I walked up and looked in the very locked dealership. I could see my knitting bag sitting across the room in the office. So close, yet so far away.
I called every number I could find, but to no avail. The dealership was closed. My knitting was lost from my world.
I sat in the new van crying and feeling nauseous for about half an hour. The panic was unreal. My knitting is what keeps me on this side of sane. Me without knitting is not a pretty picture. Had I not packed all of my needles into my knitting bag, I may have survived. But I knew they were all in there. I texted the sister wife, best friend (who is not actually a sister wife, but we are very close and that feels like the only way to describe her) and she suggested that maybe cheap needles from Walmart were better than insanity. I drove home in tense silence, but with a small spark of cheap needle hope. It was then that my daughter, my beautiful first born, remembered that she had borrowed a pair of crap needles from me and not returned them.
So I sat, and I knit cheap yarn with cheap needless. And you know what?? I survived.
As a disclaimer, I do not suggest, nor do I endorse doing this at home.
PSS The cheap yarn is due to a recent moth attack that I am not yet ready to talk about.