In various baskets throughout the house are strange piles; knitted/crocheted THINGS.
**RATHOLE: no real idea what they are beyond expanses of lovely fibers, though I believe those two oddly compelling wine-red pieces are slated to become the luscious dripping sleeves of an equally odd garment for which I'll end up having to CREATE the event that will command said apparel**
Anyway, I turn to those piles of needle-knotted fibers when bogged down or bored with everything else on the Project Stove. I seldom actually FINISH any knitted thing, probably because of the aforementioned lack of direction with my odd objects, but also because I'm a VERY pedantic technician with needles and hooks. But even with a mere set of two or three stitches, I find the act of knitting very satisfying all by itself. And so it is, I have heard, to my fellow wool gathers.
All that said, I now present a beautiful look into the heart and mind of the compulsive knitter...