I can 't find my darning needle

 I haven't posted for almost six weeks.  Where, indeed, does the time go? 

Well, for the past month I have been looking for my favourite darning needle.  I have had that needle for grafting toes on socks and weaving in the ends after finishing a knitting project FOREVER. 

And suddenly, between one sock and the next it was gone.  

Oh, I have looked for it:

Between the couch cushions

Under the couch

Beside the couch

On the rug in front of my couch 

Under the rug in front of my couch 

In my knitting basket

On the tea table

On the coffee table 

Under the coffee table

In my craft room

In my bedroom

EVERYWHERE

And it is gone. 

And it makes me very, very sad.  

Oh, and I have gone through that list multiple times, even as recently as yesterday. 

I have lost it.  This is my fault. 

I can't let it go. 

Of course I have found two other darning needles in my sewing cabinet, but....one is too fat and the other is too thin.  Mine was perfect. 

I do this. 

I dwell on inconsequential things I have lost.

I have some inherent belief that if I find the lost things then all will be right with my world. 

This is magical thinking. 

I dwell on the little things I have lost so I don't have to dwell on the big things I have lost that will never be found like ..... Trust......Love.....my Father....my big sister....my health....my youth.

So ya, I haven't been posting. 

I have been knitting endless test knits for a competition coming up next year. 

I have been editing my novel(s) and will have two for sale at a craft fair this coming Thursday as well as one going into the library system this Friday. (including an evening soiree for the launch).

I have been applying for (and getting) work at HOpe Centre as a peer support worker. 

I have been singing in the church choir.

I have been learning the art of Chi-walking. 

and there has been shopping and cooking, laundry and dusting. (okay, okay, not dusting, not really)

So life moves along and there are some good things happening. 

But still

I have lost my darning needle, and my diamond stud earring (that was a year ago, but I keep looking).

Saturday I tore my house apart looking for my wedding album.  After searching four rooms I finally found it.  I wept because I also found some things that just made me sad. 

And to be honest - unappreciated. 

But that is another post, for another day. 

Today?

Today I will go for a swim, tidy the kitchen, sweep the floors and probably do another search for the darning needle. 

Because if I can find it that I will know that all will be made right in my world. 

Or at least I will have my trusted needles to graft the toe of the socks I am about to finish. 

Update #13 - Today is one of those days

 

Yes I know today is Tuesday.  Yes I know I should have posted on Sunday.  Yes I know I didn't post at all last week. 

Here is the thing.  Well actually a couple of things. 

First - I have a finished project, a pair of socks, but I can't post pictures because they are a test knit for next years' SuperSock World Championship.  Because of working on said socks I have not made anymore progress on my 54 pickup blanket. 

Second - I have cast on a toque to match my Heather Gansey that I knit last spring, but it is not really picture worthy as it is just two inches of ribbing at this point. 

Third - Some days go like this for me:

I become aware that I am awake and still trying to figure out the peculiarities of a dream I was having. The second I acknowledge I am awake I am aware of the anxiety that lives in my gut.  It feels like the butterflies you get before you have to give a speech, or present a project, only these butterflies have no reason to be there - there is no 'event' on the horizon, except the main event called 'life'. 

I reach for my robe, noticing that my husband is still sound asleep.  This means that there will be no coffee made.  This means I have to make it.  I don't want to.

I stand in the middle of kitchen looking at the espresso machine (it is quite noisy), and the kettle. I contemplate for a brief moment not having any coffee and just going to the couch to turn on the heating pad for my very sore back.  I am aware that everything is sore at this moment. 

I opt for the kettle.  How hard can it be? I ask myself.  

The answer?

Hard. 

I fill the kettle and put it on the burner.  As the burner turns to bright red I see smoke rising from the element - vestiges of last nights' dinner either on the burner, or on the bottom of the kettle.  I don't want to set the smoke alarm off so I remove the kettle and turn off the element. 

A deep breath.  I wipe the burner.  I wipe the bottom of the kettle.  I put the kettle back on the burner and start again.  I watch for a couple of minutes to make sure the smoke will not continue. 

I spoon five tablespoons of coffee into the bodium. I put the thermos in the sink.  I get my mug down from the shelf. The kettle starts to boil.  I pick it up before the whistle sounds.  

I pour the boiling water into the bodium and a little into the thermos to warm it up. 

I set the timer for four minutes. 

This is exhausting. 

I open the fridge to get out the two litre jug of milk and pour some into my mug.  I am astonished at how heavy two litres of milk can be. 

I put the mug into the microwave.  The timer beeps.  Four minutes is up.  I push the plunger of the bodium down very carefully and then set the microwave for thirty seconds to heat up the milk. 

I empty the hot water out of the thermos and pour the extra coffee into it for my husband to have when he wakes up. 

The microwave beeps.  I take out my mug and fill it the rest of the way with coffee. 

I walk to the couch.  I sit.  I put the heating pad on my lower back. I shake out the first half of the pills and vitamins I take before breakfast.  I wash them all down with the first hot sip of my coffee.  

I am exhausted.  

Making that pot of coffee felt like climbing fricking Mount Everest.  

It shouldn't be this hard. 

But it is. 

Somedays are like that.

Today was like that.

After lunch I went bird watching with my son.  It was lovely but the two kilometers was far too much.  I had to trick myself to keep going when all I wanted to do was sit down on the middle of the path and wail. 

It is too hard.  

I know why today is a hard day.  Today is a hard day for lots of people.  Maybe today was a hard day for you. 

But you know what? 

I can do hard things.  I can do hard things that someone else wouldn't think were hard at all. 

My point? 

Today is just one of those days.  Today is just a day.  

Tomorrow will be better.