Monday morning. "I'm going to knit K a scarf for Valentine's! It's a light week at work, I can do this!"
Monday Night. "I wonder if I should have swatched? No, it's a scarf, you can't screw up a scarf." (Foreboding music plays here.)
Tuesday afternoon. "This is going to happen!" (Nagging feeling is ignored.)
Tuesday night. A tape measure is found. "I'll just check that it's about six feet. It can't be too far off..." (Theme music to "Jaws" grows in volume.)
Thirteen feet.
Yanking it off the needles and wadding it up, I threw it into K's lap at the other end of the couch, yelling, "Arrgh!!! Happy Freaking Valentine's Day!" He tried to help by saying, "It's the thought that counts....I could just wrap it around and around and around...." I informed him that he would be late to everything if he were to do that. I grabbed it back.
Wednesday morning. "I can do this."
Thursday afternoon. "This is going to happen!" (It goes twice as fast if it's only half as long.)
Valentine's Eve. (Angels hallelujahing.)
