A new leaf

Right now, as I write this, I am experiencing something I've never felt before.

My own hand-knit socks. On my own feet. Not socks for someone else that I'm just testing the fit of. No stressing over horribly kitchenered toes. Socks. For. Me.



Side view, resting on the screen of my bedroom window (that's a rock ledge out there, and yes, those are kitty pajamas. What of it?).



Front view. There's no natural light today, sorry.

These socks, these warm little wool hugs of self-love (which sounds dirtier than I imagined it would) have made me reconsider something. I'm not knitting for other people any more, unless SPECIFICALLY asked. Huh-uh. I have felt the power of the hand-knit sock, and I am embracing my selfishness. From now on, (that is, after my holiday requirements) only socks for me and for charity.

Please hold me to this.