Have you ever noticed that? That sometimes, it seems like whatever you want to do or have planned, there’s some higher power out to thwart you.
There isn’t. There really isn’t. If there is a higher power (and I sort of think there must be), I am confident that it is as about as interested in my knitting projects (and able to directly affect it) as I am in an ant`s attempt to move a breadcrumb.
For example, I have three patterns I’m in varying stages of writing, and a year of bookkeeping for the company to wind up. I’d like to get all of this done by the end of next week. And of course, a couple evenings ago, my ceiling chose to fall. Does that sound dramatic? It sort of was. The littles had been in bed for maybe twenty minutes; the man & I were watching tv, and SPLAT. Part of the ceiling stipple fell down.
SPLAT! Splat splat. The man got a drill, I got a bucket and a drop cloth, and we spent the next several hours messing with the ceiling and trying to figure out what was happening…
Turns out that one of the lag bolts on the toilet was broken, and the wax seal was either broken or unseated or had decided it really needed a break, and short of a trip to a beach in the Bahamas, the Calgary landfill would do.
I was feeling oppressed by it. I’m glad we were home and awake when it happened – that would have been an awful surprise to wake up to – and the first chunk of ceiling landed on my favorite chair. So I fixed** it. With a staple gun and a roll of craft paper.
Call it an art installation – Phoenix Rising. It’s about the emotional life of the ceiling. Conceptual art. Very high concept, actually – I could hardly reach the ceiling with the staple gun!
Anyways, despite the little voice in my head that says “Man, it’s a sign. This pattern is crap and you should trash it and do something useful”, I continue to edit the three patterns. There’s always something; and I’ve learned that every single project of mine goes through a stage where I just want to walk away from it. It varies from a mild feeling of distaste to a strong desire to light it on fire. It’s a neat trick to discern between that demoralizing voice, and the voice of reason that occasionally pipes up and says “Gee, that doesn’t look like the right ____and it hasn’t looked like the right ____ for about ten rows now…
I tend to err on the side of optimism, which means a good deal of the projects that I end up frogging have more work invested into them than they really should have – but I am happier knitting on an obvious failure that trashing a really fine idea. Depression and self-doubt are sneaky bastards, I have to be vigilant against them.
Speaking of vigilance, I am due to start to work on the bookkeeping. There is a deal I`ve made with myself – a couple hours on patterns, a couple hours on books. The books are a heck of a lot easier, and yet, less fun!
*First we both ran upstairs – because that spot is pretty well directly below the kids’ washroom. There was no water visible.
**Fixed, as in, rendered it funny so that until it is properly fixed by a professional, it makes me want to laugh, instead of cry.