A little blocked up

A quick thought on writer’s block. Mystic Medusa described it well as having sudden endless energy for organizing dinner parties (amongst other things). Now I am not writing a novel here, just a few thousand words for a conference paper. ON something I want to write about. Nonetheless, watch me suddenly want nothing else but to knit – it’s as if all my long dormant knitting projects like buds on a winter tree have sprung into bloom and demand attention. All I can think about is stripes – stripy 8-ply on size 4 needles. Maybe ribbed scarves with tassels on a size 41/2, maybe mohair shawls, maybe learning how to knit a cardigan with a high waist in 50’s scarlet. Definitely finishing this teensy little kids jumper in orange, green and purples. I think I could knit happily for the next 6 hours. Watch me also suddenly need to sort out my diary. I am itching to paint on fabric. I want to loungerooom dance. I feel a strong desire to cook lentil soup and tidy my study. I almost made an urgent dash to buy terracotta pots for some potplant transplanting today – a few things became critically root bound and clearly just couldn’t wait even another day to stretch their toes into loose dirt. No of course not. It’s as if I can’t do this one thing until everything – and I mean everything! – else is happily actioned. I am like a cat trying to herd itself. A cat with an unnatural love of knitting.