It’s 3 am, and I’m wide awake. I went shopping and picked up a couple of pattern books today. After taking my boys out of the house for a treat, I came home and my hubby dropped a bomb. Just more of the usual.
He could lead with decent news, but he doesn’t. He always throws the worst at me first. I just go numb. It doesn’t matter if there is a solution or not.
On top of that, my ABA tutors seem to be taking over my house. One makes veiled requests. The other tries to manipulate. And they think I’m dumb enough to not notice. Really, they don’t know what they say with their faces. I know there are no replacements. I will have to put up with them for now.
So I don’t sleep. I knit. I knit till my hands hurt. My fingers swell and my wrist refuses to bend. I’m knitting a hat out of one of the books I bought. I had some wool in my stash, just perfect for the pattern.
You might think knitting is a stress reliever, but it isn’t. It isn’t an attempt to make the world quit spinning, quite so fast. It is production. Making something. Creating.
Everything works to destroy. I like to make things. The duality of it, doesn’t escape me- in order to create you must change or destroy something else.