Warning: This post contains humor, imagination, and silliness. If you don’t enjoy these things, please move on to another blog.
Working as closely as I do with other knitters, it’s not surprising that our conversations often turn to knitting (I would be worried if they didn’t). I have to admit, however, that there is one knitting topic that I dread. It doesn’t help that it tends to come out of left field to smack me in the side of the head–no warning, no chance to avoid it. It usually begins with an innocent-enough question: “Sooooo, what are you working on these days?” Hmmmmmm. I generally try to dodge answering the question fully with rejoinders ranging from snarky (“What am I not working on?!”) to creative (“Here, have a cookie!”). But the truth is, I’m never working on just one thing (or five, for that matter). To compound the problem, I have a tendency to daydream about future knitting projects, and I’m cursed with a good memory, so I remember these flights of fancy, and the line between the real projects and the imaginary ones gets blurred (incidentally, wearing an imaginary sweater in a fairy tale may earn you some guffaws and raised eyebrows, but these days it’s likely to get you arrested as well). This means that at any given moment, I have the ghosts of projects past, present, and future running around inside my head like so many feral cats. I don’t think I could make an accurate list of my current works in progress if someone held a gun to my head and told me that my life depended on it.
Given the above, it would seem that I suffer from a chronic case of start-itis, and maybe it’s true. But I have a secret weapon, one that keeps me within my established closet space and prevents me from going (completely) insane. His full name is Finish-it-up-agus, but I like to call him Finny. He looks a lot like this guy, only he’s much better at accessorizing, especially with hand-knitted items. Finny is there for me, and whenever I find myself tempted to start something new, I think about how fetching he’d look in that _________(fill in the blank with knitted item of choice) that I started ____(enter a number between three and ten) months ago and then promptly forgot about. Of course, by this time you’ve probably realized that Finny is me–or at least the part of me that likes to finish things–and that he does take days off now and then. If he didn’t, I wouldn’t need him quite so often. It’s paradoxical, I know, and I’m not sure what Freud would say about Finny, but I don’t plan on introducing them to each other.
Really, though, I think all of us have and need our own Finny. For some of us, he’s loud and assertive, insisting on deadlines, schedules, and monogamous knitting; for others, he’s quiet, passive, unobtrusive (hint: they’re the people who shop for houses with really large closets). I’m beginning to suspect that my Finny is migratory. He tends to disappear at the end of November and doesn’t reappear until late February, by which time he is sorely needed, indeed. When he does return, though, he brings order to chaos. Like a benevolent fairy godmother waving a magic wand, he swoops down into my various piles of wool, and before I know it, I have an entire stack of items waiting to be blocked. Finny is the one who gives me the necessary poke to work past whatever it is in a particular project that’s holding me back. And, yes, Finny is the one who tells me that it’s okay to start something new, since I’ve been a very good girl and listened to him when he told me to finish that _________ that I started so long ago. After all, he would be out of a job if he didn’t!
What about you? What is your Finny like? Please feel free to share!