We made an impromptu jaunt into the city last week to make a few purchases and to lunch with a friend. Hubby wanted to buy a new (and much-researched) cell phone, and I wanted to buy a pair of running shoes.
I am quite mindful of the purchases I make, but more than that, I am mindful of the people who usually end up waiting patiently for me (or not) while I dither and calculate. After being married to my husband for seven years and being together for eleven, I've come to develop the Guerilla Shopping Method. This involves:
- careful planning in advance
- pre-contact with shops to check existing inventory
- studying of maps to find shops that carry the things I need in the same general area
- research of other places in the vicinity to keep the hubby busy for at least a few minutes
So, coupons, flyers, maps and doggie in hand, we jumped into the car and made our journey.
The first couple of stops went according to plan. I got a pair of jeans and some socks. I dove into the mall next, perused the store I planned for perusal, got distracted by a chocolate shop (sigh) and then headed straight over to the cell phone kiosk where I found my hubby completing his one purchase for the day. Before he was handed his purchases, I ran into the store behind the kiosk and managed to secure not one, but two pairs of running shoes (yay bogo!). He came in after me and said he'd go out and let Rascal out of the car for a short walk while he waited. I finished my purchase, walked 100 yards the wrong way, turned around, got distracted by a Body Shop, and managed to find him all within 20 minutes.
Not bad, I thought.
We then headed further into the city to meet our friend for lunch. Across the retail park was a Michaels. Oh, I thought. I could get that ball of white cotton I've been needing to finish a project.
"I'm just going in to get a ball of cotton," I said, after we finished our lunch.
"Right," said hubby. He had a resigned look on his face.
I set off in Guerilla-mode. One ball of cotton, one ball of cotton, one ball of cotton...
Who knew there'd be so many yellow sale signs in the yarn department?
I picked up a huge skein of Lion Brand Fisherman's Wool. This is where the brain went haywire.
Hey, I thought. I could buy four of these and make that wrap I've been wanting to make...
But look, I thought. The Patons Classic Wool is on sale. I could buy five of those and make that wrap for less money...
No, I thought. You're supposed to be getting the one ball of cotton. It's even on sale. Just get one.
No, I thought again. Get two. You always run out. Get two.
Okay, two, I thought. But I may as well just get the wool. It's such a good price. Five balls should do it.
Alright, fine, get five. But you'll need a basket.
Well, if you're going to get a basket, you may as well get six. Since you always run out.
Alright, six. Okay, now get out.
But now I have to go to the bathroom...
Thirty minutes later, I returned sheepishly to the car with a bag of yarn.
Luckily, my hubby was happily playing with his new phone. I don't think he even noticed the time that had passed. We may be on to something here...
This weekend, I wrestled with the numbers for the November Ruffle Wrap that I want to use this yarn for. I've been wanting to make it for a long time now. For some reason, my brain thought I needed worsted weight yarn, at least 1000 metres. Well, no. I needed DK yarn, about 600 metres. But wait, I have about 1300 metres, and I'm supposed to double the yarn anyway... but wait, I need another couple of inches of length...
Meanwhile, I sent a friend a long-winded message about yarn requirements for a skirt she wants to make (An Affair to Remember)... and got that totally turned around in my brain.
Knitting makes me crazy. It distracts me from simple tasks and efficient shopping trips, and pulls me from jobs around the house that need to get done.
It also gives my brain the workout that it craves. I like math. I don't love it, but I like the problem-solving, and the way the numbers follow a pattern and fall together to make something someone can wear. It makes my brain happy.
This is my brain.
This is my brain on knitting.