Contrary

Yesterday was one of my awkward, anxious unhappy days. I woke at five in the middle of a bad dream and couldn't get back to sleep. I couldn't remember the details, but the feelings stayed with me. I spent a few hours in the studio in the morning, but couldn't get into the flow. The pin backs I needed to finish the felt badges I'd been making were nowhere to be found. The silk flower I'd been planning didn't work out as I'd hoped . . . I came in to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee to find a mouse--alive--trapped on my kitchen bench. The dogs went berserk. Moving out isn't an option so I dealt with it.

In the spirit of contrariness, I started this: Knitting with a cheap plastic string--actually out of the bottom drawer in the kitchen--is hard on the fingers. It isn't quite as stiff as the wire, but neither does it have any of the shiny allure to redeem it. No I wasn't torturing myself to expiate my sins. I want to see if I can make a texture plate from it. I hope the string is stiff enough to make an imprint on a stamp. I figure if I'm going to do small projects like cards and brooches I want to make sure that my textile preoccupation is right there, front and centre.

Today I'm off to St Kilda to watch a football game. Not my usual thing, but my friend R has joined a team and this is their first game. Thankfully I'll be getting there and back by public transport and if I time it right I should just miss the evening peak hour. So I can knit to my hearts content all the way there at at least some of the way back. And no, it won't be nasty plastic string. I'm going to find something lovely and soft to soothe my fingers and my nerves.