"And the stockings were hung by the chimney..."

'Twas the night before Christmas...
most of us can recite the rest.


But I only want to deal with
the stockings.

My stockings have morphed
into socks.

For some ungodly reason
I purchased three sock yarns
in different weights to be
knit on three different size
needles.

Not a problem you say.

Maybe not.

But they are such beautiful
yarns and my fingers just
itched to see how they would
work up.

So, would you believe
I started all three sets?

The den resembles a
sweatshop and to make
matters worse I don't
think I can finish even
one pair before the
big day.

Are you following me?

This Christmas our socks
are going to be hung with
care but not a pair in sight.

I could tuck them away for next year.

Naw! I'd forget where they were
by then.

We could draw straws and one lucky
giftee might get a pair.

Naw!
No favoritism in this family.

I could thread a gold cord
through the cuff of each
recipient's sock, fill it
with candy kisses
and an IOU.

Now there's a plan.

I could knit night and day
for the next three weeks...
let's see how many hours
would that be?

Quick a calculator!
I have no time to spare.

Merry, merry, merry...