The Compleat And Actual Adventures of Marcella White Campbell

The large questions are supposed to be the ones that sustain us, that keep us turning the metaphorical page, swinging our feet out of bed and onto the cold floor every morning. We are supposed to hang around on Earth because we want to see our children grow up, or want to work towards world peace, or want to see our novels published.

Sure, these are noble pursuits that I would, in theory, eventually like to see to fruition. But, honestly, at 5:40 PM — a soul-chilling time when I must remind myself that The Darkest Hour Is Just Before Bedtime — it is impossible to view my life from such a distance. It is easy to answer questions like “Why am I here?” and “What is the meaning of all this?” when I am sitting in a lovely teahouse, sipping Lapsang Souchong and languidly jotting down notes. You would not wish to hear my answers to these questions when it is 5:40 PM and I have suddenly noticed, midway through a one-pot dinner that has used all the pots in the kitchen, that the little white grains of sand in my child’s hair can’t  really be sand because they are moving of their own accord.

It has been 5:40 PM several times a day for about six weeks now, a day or three of peace followed by just a string of horrid little surprises and unpleasant personal epiphanies. Unnecessary arguments have been had. Bills have shown up out of nowhere. It has rained every time I let down my guard. I’m certainly not an optimist on the sunniest of days, and so, when everything is sucking,  I tend to throw in the towel immediately. The problem is that, in real life, there are not really many ways to throw in the towel. You  can say “I give up,” but that’s not a permanent solution. There is a permanent solution, but it is not permitted.

Sometimes, one needs to be reminded of that.

I won’t bother saying something so trite as “knitting gets me through.” But, when the outlook is very bleak, there is something to be said for bright green yarn on a gray day, tiny needles clicking through a sullen silence, soft when life is hard, warm when everything is cold.

You can even put it on your foot.

Sometimes, you don’t have to make it the rest of your life. The next row will do.

(Pattern: Cat Bordhi‘s appropriately named Discovery Sock, from Personal Footprints for Insouciant Sock Knitters. Yarn is Madelinetosh Tosh Sock, in Oak. Knitting socks on two circular needles thanks to Bordhi’s Socks Soar on Two Circular Needles. Let’s worship her.)