The office where I spend twenty hours a week is in an alternate universe. I know this because the universe where I actually live doesn’t have cubicles, fluorescent lights, ugly carpeting, or Microsoft. My personal universe also has the same climate as the rest of the Bay Area. My office universe, on the other hand, is always freezing, even when it’s sunny and warm outside. Fortunately, items from the regular universe are able to exist in my office universe, so I when I came into work on Monday I was able to bring these:
These are a modified Cigar from a back issue of Knitty. They’re just the thing for the arctic atmosphere at my office; I can type, click my mouse, and
flick people off answer the phone, all while keeping my hands nice and toasty warm. I didn’t knit them, of course. My shoulder-imposed moratorium on knitting is still in effect, so when Z asked me if there was anything I’d like her to knit for me, I asked for these gloves.
That moratorium is wearing on me, though. Other than thumb-twiddling, I don’t really have any other activities that I can do while listening to NPR or chatting with Z. That sweater that I started two weeks ago is calling to me from its canvas bag next to the couch; the latest round of wifely socks, half-finished, glare at me with reproach; even the Bay Area Mass Transit System is giving me grief:
But enough whining! For the next two weeks I’ll be away at the Wyoming Young Writers Camp where I’ll be too busy teaching creative writing to teenagers to worry about knitting. By the time I get back, I’ll be ready to pick up the needles again. Right? Right?