Happens all the time. I am knitting diligently away on some endless project, resigned to be knitting forever. I’m long past the point where I’m anticipating the end, and have become thoroughly absorbed in the process.

And then, suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, it is done. Finished. Complete.

I look up in surprise, my hands still making little knitting motions in the empty air.

And I wonder where all those stitches came from.

It’s magic, I tell you.

There are only so many ways to pose an empty sweater, so tonight you get the folded-neatly look (believe me, it’s about the only thing in the house that is folded neatly at the moment…). I’ve heard a rumor that a certain model may be stopping by this weekend, so maybe we’ll get some real shots, if I ask nicely.

As my hands groped and clutched the air in search of yarn, they fell upon the latest handspun. Withdrawal is a painful thing, so I cast on blindly for a new sweater, and now I have this:

It looks decidedly odd to me at the moment, but I am also pretty sure it’s exactly what I want it to be. I’ve decided to knit this one top down in anticipation of the need for optimal yarn fume consumption toward the end. It has a wide neckline with set in sleeves, and other than that, I’m not sure where we’re going to end up. Wherever we land, it will be with some of the softest, squooshiest, love-it-must-pet-it-est yarns I’ve spun yet.

Somehow I have a feeling that this one is also going to end sooner than I expect.