Since my co-workers discovered my knitting habit, they have rarely missed an opportunity to tease me about it.
My project manager asked if I knit the chunky cabled cardigan I often wear to keep me from freezing to death in this ice-cave of an office. When I said no, he wanted to know why not. Why not? Because I bought it from the store for $20. Talk about instant gratification – knitting it myself would mean that I’d still be shivering in my cubicle while a half-knit cardigan languishes in the “finish this soon” pile.
Another co-worker asked about my green scarf and was surprised to hear that I’d knit it myself. I mentioned that I was working on a pair of socks. “Wow,” she gushed, “That’s fantastic! …Hey, how about you knit a pair for me?” Then I took out my current sock-in-progress and showed it to her. “Ohhh, wow, look at those tiny little stitches! How do you do it? It’s so neat and… and tiny! How long does it take you to knit a pair of socks?” She looked horrified when I told her, and waved off her request. “No, no, never mind about knitting me a pair. I had no idea it was so much work!” I could almost hear the unspoken, “Why the heck do you do it?”
The bookkeeper proclaimed that she would never have the patience for knitting. “Knitting gives you patience,” I said, but she didn’t seem to believe me. Most of the rest of them just give me this look of disbelief. “You… knit?” they ask. What do they expect me to do instead?
I think I’ll just leave the knitting at home from now on.