It is good to be a knitter. My stash is bloated, my project pile is stupidly high and instead of it being a problem, it just makes me happy. But I guess what is better that being a knitter, has to be living with one. Mr LouBug and Cat have long come to terms with the problems of living with a knitter (I may or may not have commandeered the utility room for my yarn and craft storage), but they have also discovered the benefits.
Cat has definitely discovered the benefits and now tends to try to colonise anything he deems to be his, often through stealth and (particularly when it is still on the needles) with determination. He has stopped short of actually sleeping in the stash (or the project box) but that may be because he isn’t sure how serious I am when I told him that I would turn his white bits neon pink if he did. Ok, so maybe I was lying (after all he is very cute) but don’t let him know.
Mr LouBug has definitely discovered the benefits of my knitting habit. Front and centre has to be my ability to sit through any level of cr@p TV (without complaint) as long as I have knitting. Seriously, I have reasonably relaxed tolerance for rubbish TV but there are only so many things with shouty cops that a girl can take. SWAT I am not. Second on the plus column has to be the fact that I do not covert designer clothes, fancy handbags or Mr T style jewellery; nope I just like posh string.
That and the socks. Yep, I am like a pusher of drugs. Once you have tried hand-knitted socks it is hard to step back into ill-fitting shop bought ones, especially if you are size 10 and have skinny feet. Say hello to my latest offering. I am thinking of a Dr Who type name for them (as they have flashes of TARDIS blue in them). Hopefully they should act as a good distraction from the fact that the project pile is slowly taking over the sitting room.
But, just in case, I have also cast on a blanket for him. Better safe than “sorry I cleared out the sitting room, did you want those cloth bags?”