Archive for February 3rd, 2014

February has just begun and I wish it were over and done with already.

The Skipper is down for the count. Somehow the muscle behind the knee and where it meets the hamstring is injured. At least we hope that’s all it is. It’s very unlike The Skipper to complain about anything, but the pain was severe enough to keep his leg elevated and him quietly sitting all day. Of course it was Sunday and his doctor was nowhere to be found. Some idiot was covering and couldn’t grasp where the injury was located. He kept talking about the heel. I finally hung up the phone on him. I have little patience with the medical profession, actually I truly have none. Combine that with a healthy dose of no trust, and a belief that they are not gods and I need to be very mindful of my attitude and behavior when I am interacting with them. When I hung up, I hung up gently, though I was very angry.

Over the many years I have learned that my anger is proportional to my fear. The more I fear something, the angrier I become. Fear and anger can’t be felt simultaneously. In order to not feel fear, my default setting is anger. My anger is a mask for the real problem, fear.

Today his doctor may be around. The Skipper will call him. We are also knee-deep in a snowstorm that is predicted to grow worse as the day wears on and getting to the doctor’s office today looks like a no go. Why, I don’t know, but I have a feeling I hope is wrong, that it’s just not a strained muscle. Enter anxiety and fear.

The second thing to go wrong is the sweater I am test knitting. I need to rip back 5″ (13 cm) because I was off in knitting land and failed to follow the instructions. When I touched base with reality and saw what needed to be done as opposed to what I was doing I became all frazzled. Three garter stitch lines run across the bottom and top of the sweater marking the beginning and end of the lace panels. I got all in a dither over the ones on the top and whether they would call attention to my bust area, which I don’t want because of the mastectomy. After repeated measuring, thinking, measuring again, I decided to follow the directions and see. Cue the anxiety.

In order to escape all this for an hour, I watched episode 3 of Downton Abbey. Mistake number 3 for the day. This was the episode where something bad happens to the one remaining character I truly like. It unnerved me for the rest of the evening. Every writer has his prerogatives. I get the point that no one gets through this thing called life unscathed. But must the viewer be repeatedly beaten over the head with this point?

Oh yes, I forgot. I am the kind of person who cries when a tree dies. Yesterday, Yarn Rascal found a dead vole in the snow. It must have lost it’s way and frozen to death. I love animals. All animals. So I spent time digging a little grave.

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