Read Online All Wound Up by Stephanie Pearl–McPhee - Free Book Online Page A

continued use of the same amount of the substance.
    “Uh-oh” is my first thought. I reread the sentence, substituting “knitting” and “yarn” for “the substance.” A need for markedly increased amounts of yarn? A diminished effect with the same amount of knitting? The sparks of concern are lit within me. If this were a quiz, most knitters I know would have to tick off that box. How much more yarn do I have now than I used to? How much more complex does the knitting have to be before it turns my crank? Admittedly I do still “use” garter and stockinette stitch, but ten years ago I didn’t need a hit of lace to get through the weekend. Not a good sign—not to mention the fact that I’m more tolerant of what it costs. Used to be that if a skein of yarn was $20 I thought it was ridiculous. Now I’m all like “$20? What’s the yardage?” I sigh. That’s one.
    (2) Withdrawal, as defined by either of the following:
    (a) The characteristic withdrawal syndrome for the substance.
    (b) The same (or a closely related) substance is taken to relieve or avoid withdrawal symptoms.
    At first glance, I think I might get away on this one. It’s not like knitters coming off of the good stuff get the shakes or are at risk of a seizure. We’re just sort of antsy, obnoxious, weird, and fidgety, which, truth be told, isn’t really withdrawal. At least in my case, it’s the actual personality that I have without knitting. I knit because I’m not patient, because I can’t wait well, because I’m fidgety, and it’s not like that’s characteristic. Most knitters who aren’t knitting are just themselves, no matter who that is, for better or for worse; all different, just bored. I’m about to move on to the next criterion when I realize that it says “either” (a) or (b) could apply, and I realize that I’m hosed. Almost all knitters I know are going to substitute a closely related substance if they can’t get what they usually use. If I couldn’t get wool, I would use acrylic before I quit, and the two times in my life that I’ve had an injury that kept me from knitting? I broke out the crochet hook, and I don’t even really like to crochet. Reluctantly, I mentally tick off this box too.
    (3) The substance is often taken in larger amounts or over a longer period than was intended.
    I only have one thing to say to that. Shut up. I always meant to have this much yarn, and for the record, I was planning the whole time to stay up that late knitting, and “just one more row” is simply a turn of phrase. Also, everybody has this many projects at once, and yarn in the freezer is normal. It keeps it safe from moths. Pass me my sock and get off my back.
    (4) There is a persistent desire or unsuccessful efforts to cut down or control substance use.
    Thankfully, I don’t have to tick this box. Sure, I’ve de-stashed when things got a little wild, and there are times when the yarn budget has to be reined in, but that’s just life, not addiction. It’s not like I’m walking around saying, “Man, the hangover from last night’s scarf is killing me. I can’t tie one on with mittens tonight; I’ve got to cut back.” Well, at least it’s not like I’m saying it
that
much. (There have been a few incidents around the holidays, but everyone tends to overindulge then.) The same is true of yarn diets. There have been times when I’m choking the wool money, but that’s the same as not buying much of anything when you’re broke, and that’s always successful. I’ve never told my kids that we’re eating a single can of discount peas for dinner because Mummy blew the budget on merino, and what’s more, I can honestly say that I have no desire—absolutely none—to cut back or control my knitting. As a matter of fact, I’d say I’ve got a persistent desire and I’ve made continuously unsuccessful efforts to increase my knitting and yarn use. I’m sure that these addiction book-writing people would just say something