Unfaithful

I have to confess.

Infatuation:

I'm overtaken by obsession,
the craving for hand-dyed
self-striping sock yarn.

I have a perfectly
satisfactory knitting life.

Scattered about the den
one would find I have:

One hundred thirty-two
pale blue wool stitches on
a number six round needle, the
hem of a pinafore for Frances.

Forty-four stitches are
arranged on three number
six needles. It will knit into
seven inches of rib leading
to a knee sock mate for
Grace's wool socks.

And tucked in a baggie,
since our trip to Florida
is a baby sweater in dark
blue, a gift for Jenn's
co-worker.

With a shake of the rabbit's
tail the baby sweater could
be done and in the mail.
Two tiny sleeves
(three inches each)
and a two row border.

And what am I doing?
Surfing the net for
sock yarn.

Not just any ole yarn
but hand-dyed yarn
that will work up on
a needle size no smaller
than a three or a four.

Cataracts you know...
Can't do those teeny tiny, 
stitches any more.

So, I spent hours on the internet.
Research I called it.
One has to comparison shop:
ply, yardage, price, color options.

I fell into bed exhausted
with visions of yarn skeins
in my head.

Now a reasonably sane
person would honor their
commitment to the lovely
projects in progress.

But sad to say
I have this inexplicable need
to knit colorful stripes.

I have narrowed my choice
to one and have to e-mail
the dyer requesting that skein.
It seems that she has only
one skein in each dye lot.

Woe is me
if after all this angst
the skein is sold.

But let's take
the positive approach.

Then I have to get
darling husband to talk
me through Paypal
and share his password.

Ain't love grand?

To my neglected projects I say:
Don't perceive my neglect
as unfaithfulness.

View my absence
as a time apart.

When we are reunited
it will be with enhanced
enthusiasm.

Infatuated! Yes.
Flirtatious! Maybe?

Unfaithful? Never!

I shall return.