I don’t know what happened to me, but a couple nights ago, before bed, I thought I’d try and knit up a gauge swatch for this great-looking sweater in the book Hot Knits by Melissa Leapman. Well.
Not being real familiar with lace, I was trying my darndest just to see if I could accomplish a swatch in the lace pattern written. Instead of winding down for bed, I got so wound UP in this dumb, slippery, swatch that my frustration level (and blood pressure) kept rising.
Then I made a little “harRUMPH” noise. Which turned into a little giggle. Which then turned into a laugh. Which led me to hoots and guffaws and screeching laughter that finally caused my son, waaaay down the hall with his headphones on, to come to our room to find out, “What’s the matter with mom?”
I could barely see through my tears as I found my way downstairs. By the time all was said and done, my insides ached, my nose was stuffed up, and my face looked like I’d had a bad botox job.
here is a fine line between hysterical laughter and just plain hysterics.