Confession time: knitting this baby sweater? Is freaking my shit right out.
- I'm knitting it for the baby of someone I once planned to have babies with.
- I still haven't quite figured out the whole baby-wanting thing.
- The next birthday is kind of a big one, in terms of the whole biological clock thing.
- Knitting things for babies automatically begets thoughts of babies. And then we're tempted to share those thoughts with, for example, boyfriends.
- Not necessarily sweater-related, but still: previously cool, non-pushy mothers (who have adult grandchildren) suddenly start clamoring for another one.
I'm shaping the front of the baby sweater (maybe saying "baby sweater" enough will take away some of its power), which is making it look more like a wearable something and less like a big block of mind-numbing garter stitch. I've given up on all side projects until this thing's done, and I've got new yarn that wants to be gloves, so there's incentive to finish. Soon. Finish soon. I have knit on this thing on the train, the bus, the subway, while on conference calls, while out having cocktails with friends (hi, baby! Parts of this sweater of yours? Knit by a drunk woman!). It. Will. Be. Done. Soon. Ish. At least it's helping me get over my breakup with Noro.
Yep. Noro and I have called it quits. As much as I love it, we're just not meant to be. Much like that on-again, off-again boyfriend I had in college, Noro's lovely to look at and wonderful to touch, but for me it's just not relationship material. It's not for lack of trying on my part, people. I keep getting sucked back in by the pretty, by promises that this time it'll be different... but it's always the same. I invest my time, I foolishly believe it'll change, but in the end all I'm left with is a hazy memory of how good it all was in the beginning.