Pattern Junkie

I can\’t help myself. I see them and I must have them. I tell myself I must rescue them for no one else will appreciate them the way I can. What if they fall into the wrong hands? What if that someone else (the other purchaser) does not know what she has and inevitably does the unthinkable–gasp–donates it to Good Will where it will sit unnoticed amidst unread copies of Sunset Magazine and an also-ran cookbook with a forgettable title and stupid cover art (thought to be kitchy but really was just stupid)?

I excuse myself with well thought out rationales. They are like excuse notes to my teachers:

I just can\’t stop. If knitting patterns were cats, I would be on the local 10 o\’clock news for keeping 150

An awesome surprise gift from my friend Jessica. A find at the local library book sale. Whew! She saved it!! Plus, it\’s really cool!! I love it! I guess I am hooking other people.

of my closest feline friends in my studio apartment. If knitting patterns were felonies, I would be in for life….or worse.

What is a knitter to do, I ask you?

According to my Ravelry library, I have 4,198 patterns to date. And I know there are really so many more than that–just not yet cataloged. Some things have been given to me by enabling friends (I love you guys!), some I bought from the infamous Amazon, some from those dangerously obscure websites.

I am vaguely aware that I am riding the line between functioning normally as a good citizen and living a junkie\’s life, holed up for days at a time in some cheap motel, rent-able by the week, covered in knitting magazines and books, unshowered and smelling of god-knows-what, just waiting for my next delivery. My next fix.

Okay, this onewas  sort of a \”Whatthe?!\” It\’s pretty stupid, but hey! would you leave a beloved pet behind just because they are ugly or chew your furniture and pee on the couch? Well, okay, honestly….I might …but I won\’t let an old knitting  publication die.

For now, I am keeping up appearances, mostly. I make it to work, I shower, mostly,  I make meals for my family, mostly. And my excitement remains contained for the most part, only unravelling a bit each time the mailman comes with a new package for me. Then I momentarily turn into Ralphie from A Christmas Story, sprinting home from the mailbox and, instead of a sleazy motel, I hole up in my craft room, door shut, ravaging the newest addition to my library the way Ralphie holed up in his mother\’s bathroom with his precious Little Orphan Annie Secret Decoder Pen.

But I am never disappointed the way Ralphie was. No, my message is never so mundane as \”Be sure to drink your ovaltine.\”

Mine is always satisfying. Until the next package comes.

And I think I like it that way.