Sit right back for a tale of woe. Because, really, aren't tales of woe the more interesting ones? Don't pull out any tissues; things aren't that bad.
I was in a funk yesterday. Perhaps the weather did it, perhaps yet another visit to my dentist (although everyone there is quite pleasant, I'd rather not spend any more time with them), perhaps just mid-week doldrums. In any event, I popped in a movie (Saving Grace, should you want details) and set to work on Chart B of Clue 1 of the Mystery Stole 3. I made some good progress, I'll have you know, but I had to put the scrap of lace down for the dogs' afternoon stroll (I don't say or write walk. They'll know and expect it to happen pronto!), but after a delish salad prepared by my darling husband, I settled in to continue with the Mystery. I had some knitting mojo, and I was smart enough to be humble about it. "Oh, lovely," said I. "I've got the right number of stitches." And, "Isn't it grand that I'm able to keep track of the row I'm on? Aren't I fortunate?" The knitting gods like that sort of gratitude.
On goes disc one of the third season of Deadwood (oh, how I love this show. I have such a crush on Al. Don't tell me you don't have just a little one on him too, K.; I won't believe you). Neal and I are happy as we recall each character's story from the end of season two. Blink. Off go the lights, then back on. It is raining, after all, and a bit windy. I return to my lace, about to start a new row, yet I hesitate. Off goes the power. On. Then, for a final time, off.
But, whine I, I have knitting mojo. Lace knitting mojo. This isn't to be squandered. "Don't we have a generator or something," I ask Neal, my voice as persuasive as I can make it, as though my desire will make such a thing appear. Negative. We talk about the future for a while, but the entire time, my thoughts are elsewhere. They are on Chart B, which was going so swimmingly back when I had electricity at my beck and call. Finally, we toddle off to bed. Neal pulls out his headlamp (one of my first gifts to him, may I add) to aid me in my evening ablutions. As I brush my teeth, I see a lightbulb above my head, and it's not just the lit headlamp. It's an idea.
Why not knit using the headlamp? I mention my thought, and it is promptly refused. "You can't waste our only light source on knitting." Waste? WASTE? I resist the urge to remind my husband (who does not, it would appear, understand knitting mojo) that there are plenty of candles about the house to use as light sources. I'm afraid he would suggest that I use those to light my lace.
Even I'm smart enough to know that would be taking my mojo too far. I know its limits, and I won't mess with them.
I will, though, get a headlamp of my own. My own personal back up lighting system for lace knitting/power outage emergencies. You might consider it yourself.