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

about needing to admit I have a problem, but screw it. I’m still going to work and cooking for my family; nobody who lives in my house is sharing a bed with a sibling because their room is full of yarn; and I say there’s no problem to admit to.
    (5) A great deal of time is spent in activities to obtain the substance (e.g. visiting multiple doctors or driving long distances), use the substance (e.g. chain-smoking), or recover from its effects.
    As much as I was developing a righteous head of steam on that last one, number five is a problem. There are three yarn shops in town where they know me on sight, and at one of them I’ve lobbied to have a cubby to keep my things in, given how much time I’m there. I’d say that counts as spending a lot of time obtaining the substance, and we haven’t even talked about how I go to knitting retreats, run knitting conferences, write and teach about knitting, and have, on more than one occasion, driven across many hundreds of miles to go to a sheep and wool festival for no other purpose than to “obtain the substance.” Is that wrong? Is that addiction, or am I just really interested? I wonder, as I stare at the criteria on the page, what it means that every knitter I know spends tons of time obtaining the substance, and still tries to obtain more when they already have more than they can use. I try to relate it to an addict wandering the street looking for just a little to take the edge off, and realize that we’re a different beast—sort of. A junkie is all about getting and using, and when that’s used you need to get more. A knitter is all about getting and using, but not necessarily in that order, and there’s a certain pleasure in having the substance with you without using it that (and I’m only guessing here) doesn’t really seem to be the way it works with cocaine. With that thought, I resist the urge to check the DSM index for the criteria for hoarding, and move on.
    (6) Important social, occupational, or recreational activities are given up or reduced because of substance use.
    At first I think this one’s okay too. For the most part, I haven’t given up or reduced going to work or play because of knitting. As a matter of fact, it looks to me like my substance use increases my important social, occupational, and recreational activities. I go to a regular Knit Night and almost all my friends are knitters. That’s social. I’m a writer who writes about knitting. That’s occupational. And for recreation I, um… I knit. I’ve never quit a job to stay home and knit, although I know someone who called in sick because she was on a hat deadline. Actually, I know lots of knitters who’ve called in sick to knit, but that’s not addiction—that’s just the month before Christmas. It’s not like they did it so much that they got fired or anything, so that’s reasonable. I know regular people who’ve called in sick and gone to the movies… although I also know knitters who have declined to go to the movies with that person because it’s too dark to knit there. (Personally, I have mostly solved this by taking plain stockinette socks to the movies. I only have to stay home and knit if I’m at the heel, and that seems normal.) As for declining social events, I don’t think the lot of us should be condemned because we’d rather stay home and knit than go to some party, and really, it’s not our fault that society is so backward that you feel you shouldn’t knit at parties. I understand that staying home to knit is perceived as anti-social, but it’s not, really. A lot more of us would take part in social activities if we could use our substance while we were there… and with that rationalization, I tick the mental box for that one.
    I stop and review for a second, sitting there with the book open on my lap. I run my finger down its pages, counting the criteria that I’ve said yes to. Five. I’ve ticked off five, although I really resent number six (it’s a