I keep missing the world. I’m in desperate need of comprehensive guide to the world of objects. I keep calling Thanksgiving “Halloween.” I have lost all sense of scope. I cannot discern the crucial from the inconsequential. While innocently browsing with my sister I came upon this title in the crafting section: Never Knit Your Man A Sweater (Unless You’ve Got A Ring).
I especially like this website’s synopsis of the problem. I paraphrase: We, ladies, are wasting our time making beautiful handicrafts for men only to be dumped and spurned, our projects discarded or worse– kept as a foolish tell, proof that we loved harder than the man. Instead of limiting myself to this commitment trajectory of stitches, I am going to have my lawyer draw up prenuptial agreements for everything I make. In the case of divorce: this sweater reverts back, this one is passed to a new lover, this one will be donated to pet-relief work in New Orleans. This seems much better than monitoring involvement as I go. I imagine issuing new promises to my lover– ensuring everyone always knows the temperature of the relationship: if we make it to the end of a coaster, I’ll consider making you a sock, if we’re still at it after a few goodnatured iPod cozies, I’ll consider a hat or a scarf. Then maybe it will be forever-sweater time.
Why not just knit all my loved ones into one, big, woolly sack? I can already see all your shrinking, darkened faces looking up at me as I stitch you shut.
I still can’t hear you clearly. And am as distracted by messes as I was before. Too bad I’m such a messy person.
During her visit my sister revealed a new psychological disorder. Marked by disturbance at the sight of uneven blinds– it is different from mere anality, more localized. “I hate when they’re a little off like that!” she told me, getting up to fix them. “Isn’t that kind of obsession a sign of autism?” Sister misunderstands, “Offism?” Indeed.
* Intentionally(?) off-putting sign on my shrink’s waste basket. My concern is first that people are trying to flush th’s and nd’s, thi’s and tha’s instead of tampons. I flush tampons anyway.