I was all gangbusters on my Christmas knitting.
Until I wasn't.
You know how it is, don't you? I'm trying not to paint myself into the "selfish hoar" corner, but depending on the moment, I'm either successful or I'm not. My mind knows I've been working on gift socks since October, and thinking and stashing for them as early as September. I'm on my last pair and I know I could do them if I just stick my mind to it but I donna wanna.
"Selfish hoar."
"Awwww, shutuppayouface."
All I can think about is that I haven't knit myself a pair of socks since May.
Sundara sock, Marina over Icicles.
And what good are buckets full of sock yarn if they're not being knit into socks for memememememe?
"None" would be the answer, but that would be incorrect. Sock yarn is good in and of itself; it doesn't need to be anything, it just needs to be.
"But still" she whines forevermore.