Not Myself, yet Unwilling to Make an Excuse at the Moment.

I picked up some double point needles to do a quick swatch today and for a second I thought I had forgotten how to cast on.

I chalked it up to using double point needles for a flat swatch instead of my usual circulars which were more than a few steps away.

Then, I tried it again and got it right and knit a few rows. Boy, was I rusty.

And it hit me: I hadn't knit since, oh, maybe the second week in December.

The second week in December? What person who considers themselves a major knitter--no, a Major Knitter--doesn't knit for weeks on end unless:

They've broken both their hands and haven't yet mastered holding needles and yarn in their toes and teeth
or, they've fallen off a sixteen-storey building and hit their head really hard, woke up convinced they were Martha Stewart, and would rather re-pot 13,000 vintage chrysanthemums instead
or, fell and couldn't get up
or, got stuck in some Chilean coal mine (wait: wasn't that last year's news?)
or, decided, like one kid I know did, that shearing sheep was akin to abuse and told me so powerfully and with more passion than some evangelicals I know
or, got hooked on sewing (which, I have NOT)

Or?