Knitting and sepaku

It's not good when your knitting makes you want to disembowel yourself. Or beat your head against a wall until it's a bloody pulp. Or hide in a closet sucking your thumb. Not good at all.

Yesterday was one of those days when the balance tipped from knitting-as-moving-meditation to knitting-as-catalyst-for-mental-illness. Such a fine line that. One minute you're happily seaming your garment, the next your head's down on the table and you're thinking of ways to immolate $100 in sweater pieces.

I'll take much of the blame here. Spatial understanding is not a strength. I've sewn sweater sleeves to hip seams. Found myself in Queens trying to access the Upper West Side. And tied myself in yogic knots trying to sort out right from left.

Deviate sweater construction from the typical bottom-up back-front-sleeve configuration and neurological mayhem ensues.

Anyway, all will eventually come out in the finishing. I plan to seek help from a higher power.


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