Esteemed correspondent Laurie Kingston of Not Just About Cancer has a beautiful post today all about one instance of procrastination making room for serendipity. Turns out the blanket she's knit but never pieced together is going to make an amazing cover for her forthcoming book. Can't wait to see it.
Meanwhile, since I remain both disgustingly self-absorbed and wracked with guilt over a plethora of personal failures, looking at a picture of her lovely if as yet unfinished blanket naturally reminded me of my own unfinished afghan that I've been mostly not working on for the last five years. (And for now, we're just going to gloss right over the novel I haven't been working on for the past two or three.)
One of the things about this afghan that so grieves me is that when I started it I had three cats, all deceased now, all of whom I loved more than my own life, and all of whose fur has been worked into the fabric along with stray hairs from both me and my true love. (You can't work with fiber in an un-sterile environment and not end up incorporating samples of all the fiber floating around in that environment, at least not without a whole lot more skill and care than I can ever employ.) Though each enjoyed rolling around and napping on my squares as I finished them and set them in stacks next to me while I worked, it causes me pain to think about how none of them lived to enjoy napping cozily in and on the completed article. They would have loved it, each of them and all of them together, if I could only have gotten it put together sooner.
The little squares are jammed into zippered plastic bags while they wait for me to decide I have the time to figure out the order in which I want to sew them. They've been packed up like this since I last wrote about them. Every time I look at them, I get sad.
Or, I used to until very recently. Not so much anymore. (Click to enlarge.)
Yes, Laurie. Sometimes procrastination pays off in unexpected ways. (Click to enlarge.)
Still hoping to finish this beast someday, of course -- and yes, I mean the afghan, not Sam; Sam can stick around just as he is for as long as he likes. But if I never do, at least I'll have gotten to see someone enjoying its innate coziness at every stage of its development, even pillowy stagnation.