Knitting through the tears

Knitting through the tears.

I don’t think I have done that much.

There have been times when I was chanting while I knitted.

When it doubt, knit!

There have been times when I have knitted to keep from screaming.

Knitting to keep my hands too busy to choke anyone…

And, I have knitted on a few occasions to fight off worry and even physical pain.

But tears? No. Not until today.

They say things come in threes. Bad things and good alike travel in this circle.

I would think that a sane sound minded person would be able to step back and say… “There that’s the third thing,” and with a deep sigh of relief be done.

It rarely works that way. It isn’t working that way today anyway.

It should have been a good week. The cold weather is gone. Nine months with Don….

Leon passed his drug test and was assured by the manager he would start a new job.

On Monday Don appeared at my house to tell me we were through. I took a deep breath, went in the house, placed a phone call, and unraveled his sweater while I waited for my date. I didn’t feel bad, sort of relieved.

That night at mid-night I got pulled over in my own driveway on suspicion of DWI. No, I hadn’t been and yes he was a jerk and yes I got a ticket because my dearest third son had let our policy lapse on the cars. (In December.) I was shaken, but not real moved. I took up a baby blanket that I have been working on since November for a co-worker and after a few inches I went to bed and attempted to sleep.

Today I found out that Tori’s future hubby didn’t get a job we really needed him to get.

I want to cry. I have the dress that I am designing for their wedding and I am knitting on it while I wait for the phone in the office to ring.

I want to cry.

I tell myself that the worst is over. I say that he will get on with my company or someplace close and it will be ok.

I want to cry.

I tell myself that I need to be careful because if I get this chenille wet it may run all over the white top I’m wearing and the last thing I need is to get pink/red stains on it.

I want to cry, but.

I will not cry.

Not now anyway.

I will sit quietly and work on the dress.

Later, I will throw away the plastic cup from the restaurant we ate at almost once a week. I had been keeping it on my desk to use at the office.

Later, I will go through my stash and pack up all that ridiculous wool yarn that I bought because he said he liked it when I was surfing Ebay.

Later, I will go out and clean out my car and put the new insurance card in it and meet up with my dearly beloved son so he can go on Monday and retrieve my %@#$% plates.

Later, I will call the new guy who took me to dinner and who in all honesty is a great deal yummier than Don ever thought about being. And as it turns out (I had the worst crush on ten years ago when we were both married to other people) feels the same way about me. I will feel better.

Later.