Why the hell do you knit?

When folks find out I knit, I am met with one of two reactions. First is one of disbelief, followed by a look that says "oh that poor thing, being home has finally gotten to her and she's gone off the domestic deep end." The second reaction is one of interest, usually followed by "Wow! I wish I had the patience to do that."

Anyone who knows me well, knows I am not a woman of great patience. I have it, but I am an easily distracted sort, so the fact that I spend a lot of time knitting sweaters is amazing even to me.

I'm pretty sure garment construction scratches that itchy part of me that obsesses over clothing. Unlike shopping which gives me instant gratification, knitting a sweater happens one stitch at a time.

Yuppers.

One. Stitch. At. A. Time.

Bit by bit, twist after twist, growing fabric underneath my fingers. It's insane. You'd think doing something that tedious would make your mind snap. I find it to be just the opposite. After a day of listening to my kids' screaming, whining, fighting, and repetitive choruses of "NO!!!!" knitting calms me down and brings me to a peaceful spot.

My favorite moment is when you are working on a complicated pattern and suddenly you can actually see it in your fabric, unfolding before your very eyes! Then I take a sip of my wine, wrap some luscious yarn around my fingers and carry on. A sweet slice of heaven.

So, why the hell do I knit? Because if I didn't, I might actually stab someone with a sharp object. This way, I channel how I use them.