A Two Pint Night

Yesterday was a doosey.  One of those days when I was hit with one thing after another at the office.  I get back from court, and a client had scheduled a last minute appointment for as soon as I walked in the door.  As soon as he left, a random person wandered in asking about a divorce.  I barely had enough time to sort through the mail, between  phone calls, before I was off to court again.  I had two out of three hearings in front of that Judge, and my hearings ran late, which has a cascade effect.  The last hearing ended at 5:45.  I was supposed to pick up my kids by 5, so there I was texting my Sweetie in the middle of my court hearing. 

Rush home, get organized, give kids baths, blah, blah.  By the time I got to Knittervention, I was ready for a pint of cider, knitting and a few laughs.  Even though we book the little room every other week, there were three people there.  Three people that had already consumed whatever they had ordered, and were just sitting there talking.  Three people that were obviously not fazed at all as knitter after knitter arrived, paused at the doorway in confusion, then crammed close together trying to avoid poking each other with long pointy sticks. 

The invaders finally left after 45 minutes, and within seconds we had the tables bussed, wiped and had spread ourselves out.  That was when I ordered the second pint.

While everything else was going to pot, the knitting was going well.  I brought Fuchsia Wave, and was going like gangbusters on the edge.  While I have no specific memory, empirical blog or Ravelry entries, or pictoral proof, starting the new skein for the edge prep rows sounds like something I would do. 

I am reasonably certain that I will have enough yarn.  Or I am suffering from severe fiber denial that will result in tears, swear words, and self-depreciating blog posts.  And maybe a three pint night, ending with the cab ride home. 

Today, it is all about denial certainty.