Sunday morning, the local paper carried an article on redefining alcoholism. After my SO reads the article, he turns to me and asks, "So. When do you know you have a knitting addiction?"
"It's not an addiction," I say. "It's an obsession."
"Oka-a-ay. What are the signs your knitting is out of control? It's the first thing you do when you get up in the morning?"
"Um, I knit while drinking my morning coffee. And I knit at lunch. And I knit during bunny hour."
"Bunny hour is a good time to knit."
"I suppose if knitting were to get in the way of other things one should be doing..." (Don't notice the dust. Don't notice the dust. Don't notice the dust.) "... or if it became an issue with the other people in one's life, then one might have a knitting problem."
"Sure. Like any addiction."
This, from a man who, at the very moment of this conversation, is wearing a pair of handknit socks, socks which he tells me not only warm his feet and his heart but also give him a psychological lift on gray winter days, a man who has requested a handknit fez, for Pete's sake. He'd better watch it, or the supply line for his addiction to handknits just might dry up.
3 comments:
My husband was also worried that I had a yarn addiction after the Midwest Fiber Festival and Stitches MidWest. What did he expect? Sheesh. (And he wants handknit socks for his size 13 feet!)
I believe that he would be an enabler, then. ha ha...
My husband supports my addiction...er...knitting hobby. Mostly. He only makes comments when more than three packages with yarn show up in a week. That only happens two or three times a month..really...stop laughing... :)
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