Last night I did what all women of a certain age do when they find themselves newly single and free! free! on a Friday night. I went out looking for love in a yarn shop. And that my friends is what we call looking for love in all the right places. Especially if it is mohair.
And love costs. It is expensive. I'm just saying.
For some time now I have been trying to hook up with Barbara (she has an internets handle, like on CB radio: CatBookMom) and knit the night away at Unwind. They have the sort of shop that feels homey and airy and open, even to sweaty weirdoes. (That's me, not Barbara.) And we met up and she was so kind, so warm, you feel like you have known her for a hundred and twelve years. And I met Cecily and Karen, who both work at the shop, and I'm kind of in awe of them both. They just have that easy way with people, maybe because they talk to people all day, and you just feel like you can ask dumb questions and no one thinks anything of it.
All in all a good night. I took pictures but my Internets are too damn slow to post them now. I'm a mite spoiled.
Back in the day, I used to spend Friday nights hoping Mr. X would want to go to the movies, or spend time with me, and I would end up making dinner, and watching TV and being a homebody. Now, Post-X, I am actually leaving my house and it's not because I yearn to stand awkwardly at a bar and make small talk with a strange man younger and cuter than me who also says "dude" every fifth word.
Note to ya'll single girls: Being married? It is not always the closed-club private Love VIP Room you imagine it to be. Believe it or not, Single is good, too. You may have a list of all the various and sundry things you suspect married people are doing while you stand at the bar and hear John/Scott/Tyler call you "dude." And you may desire marriedness and envy those who are at home, Being Married.
But, let's be honest. In America, 60% of us end up like me, divorced and drunk and covered in cat hair. Sometimes (not always but SOMETIMES) married means cleaning the cat box, filling the toilet paper holder that no one but you is apparently capable of filling, bitching about the dishes, and not having sex. And ya'll I can do that all by my own damn self! With the added benefit of having no one to justify the yarn shopping to.
So, you know. It was a good night all around. Pass the wine.
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