Today, once again, we in Maine are snowbound. 10 inches, they predict. But this time I have no plane to catch...only a theater ticket for tongiht, and the play will probably be re-scheduled. So I am cozily at home, with a fridge full of food; and I decided to use this unexpected time to deal wiht a negected project. 

No, not a book manuscript, though that is also on the agenda.

This is: knitting. I used to knit a lot. Then I got a kitten and knitting became a lost cause.  You simply can't knit with a kitten in the house.  So I tucked it all away, and when I moved last spring, I moved several tote bags filled with yarn, knitting paraphernalia, and some half-done projects.  I put them in a  closet in my new house. And there they have sat until today, when I decided to sort through them and organize them and re-identify myself as a knitter.

There were a lot of third of a baby blanket? Half a hat? Part of a mitten? quandries. Most of those things got tossed out.

And then there were things like this:



I remember starting that scarf. It was tedious. But the yarn was do I want to throw all that work...and all that $$$$....away?  Maybe I will take this up again.


But what about this?


This is one blue striped sock, and maybe two inches of the second.  Do I care about these socks enough to resurrect and resume this?

And now that I have organized all the balls of yarn in the drawers of a chest on my sunporch, and another drawer now holds all the needles and stitch-holders and scissors ...and another contains various pages of instructions, and some pictures of potential projects...

I realize that I still have THIS to worry about, even though THIS will be three years old on April 1st:



Oh dear. Meow.