My mother really does love me. I asked for hand knitted socks for Christmas. All of the other ones that she and my sister had made for me had giant holes in them, yet I continued to wear them all winter long. I loved them and they were so cozy and in my overzealous attempt at keeping the gas bill down, my house was freezing and I needed them. Really I needed a full body wool sock, but that would take even more yarn than my mother has.
I mentioned it again when my birthday rolled around, but my mother's notorious for having 38 different knitting projects, each for a specific knitting "time," like in the car, watching TV, etc. (If you think that's bad, my grandmother used to keep a knitting project on the back of the toilet - hey, quit snickering, she was a mother of seven, she wasn't about to waste a minute!) Anyhow, I hoped for socks, but was still eeking out the last days of my old socks.
And, you know, the weather here has been unseasonably cold, but it's finally warming up to a proper three-day Texas spring. And today, in my mailbox, were the most fabulous socks you've ever seen. Seriously, these were no TV watching socks, these were concentrating socks. I really want to wear them, but in my overzealous attempt to keep my electric bill down, my house is far too warm, and my feet far too sweaty.
So now, here I am, with un-holey socks, and it's too warm to even wear socks at all. Oh, yeah, karma's totally got my number.