Nobody warned me. When I sat down to learn to knit last winter, nobody said, Beware, this may be your undoing.
And I’m glad they didn’t, because I love to knit. I have about a hundred projects I’d like to make this winter, and the only thing (!) stopping me is this: Gear. I have two different sizes of knitting needles, and am just realizing that of the many patterns I collect, almost none of them call for the same size needle. Um, what’s a girl supposed to do?
I’m really a pretty good non-consumer. I occasionally lose it at yard sales and thrift stores in big cities, but in general, I don’t buy anything but food and underwear and used books. So it was strange, that rush of I Have to Buy Every Size Knitting Needle I Can Get–Right Now!
I almost bought a set of interchangeables. I almost bought one of the insanely cheap sets of like 15 needle sizes straight from China off that place where you bid on stuff. I almost went and just paid full price at the local yarn shop for a needle size that seemed useful, someday, but not quite yet.
And then I just stopped, and watched myself for a second. I went back to the two little projects underway on my two pairs of fine circular needles. I’m having fun with them. Besides, how much knitting can you do at once?
This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted something. Badly. Right now. But that breath, that pause, that little bit of room for the desire to exist without consuming me, or turning me into a consumer, I consider it a friend. Sometimes I realize I don’t need what I think I do. Or that I do. Or I can find it secondhand if I wait a little (or more likely, a long time).
I’ll figure it out, no doubt. But how do you handle that crafty person’s craving for…more? More fabric, yarn, books, supplies, projects. I kind of agree with this related post from Little Home Blessings. Sometimes it’s a fine line between inspiration and lust, between doing it yourself and consumerism, eh?