Monday, July 23, 2007

Death & Yarn

Apparently an ongoing series.

For those of you who don't read comments or might miss comments or who would be grateful to your dear ol' AntiM for not making you go dig the comment out, this from Brother:

Yo - wait, wait, wait. I wanna go back. (How far you gonna go back? We're gonna go way back...but you aren't really NWA people, are you?)

As Administrator of my sister's estate (and you wool-sucking vampires should be ashamed of yourselves), I would like to make all claimants aware of a new caveat AntiM's bequeathments:

Anybody who should come into possession of yarn promised but not delivered as socks either to Brother or to Great White Father at the time of AntiM's death shall be obligated to complete said socks for delivery to promisee.

The Executor has spoken. Put that on your needles and knit it, you vampires.

[SUMMARY: I'm dead, you ghouls! Is anyone going to mourn my untimely passing or are we all going to fight over the disposition of the fibre in all its myriad forms? Yeah, don't answer. Totally rhetorical. And in answer to your question, Brother, we're really KWA people. You know what I'm sayin'.]

A new knot in the WIP that is this whole Grim Reaper vs. The Stash is knitted into the mix. Which brings me to a tangent I've been fomenting over the weekend: Deficit Knitting.

As of this morning before I checked the vast sea of OOT email, I was one baby blanket and one pair of Father's Day socks in debt. Then I read that another friend had a baby§ last Monday and I should probably oughtta knit a little something (sweater?) for New Gretchen. So sort of three projects in debt.

In the red on the knitting.

Writing fibrous checks the needles can't yet cash.

Post-dating your knitting.

Oh, c'mon. I know y'all have done it: wrapped a half-finished Christmas scarf with a note you'll finish by Valentine's Day, deviously suggested you really want to make X pattern for BFF, but you want her to be able to pick out her very own yarn (like you're doing her some sort of special favour, but knowing full well you forgot her birthday until her husband called and invited you for dinner at the last minute), plopped an enormous bag of sock yarn in front of brother (*ahem*) and magnanimously offered to knit WHATEVER HE WANTS out of your considerable stash because you missed the boat on the only major holiday he gets to claim as his own.

And like credit card debt, you probably SHOULD pay off the debt you have before you incur more.

And like credit card debt, there are always occasions that lead you into the temptation of more more more debt, even possibly getting an entirely new credit card to segment your debt that much more.

And like credit card debt, you know there are things on the horizon that have the very real potential to put you in debt that much further.#

[SUMMARY: Debt is debt, though my brother is slightly less likely to levy your bank account than the IRS.]

Which brings us full circle to the macabre subject at hand: Knitting After Death.

And the ongoing feeling that dying takes a lot of work and organisation.

If I got hit by a bus tomorrow, the IRS would get theirs. CitiCards would get theirs. Even the electric company, I suspect, would get theirs. But who looks after the yarn creditors?

Add to the ever-growing list that someone must complete AT LEAST the debt projects. So anybody who wants to partake of the stash inheritance will have to finish something on my needles in proportion to the quality and quantity of stash for which you are vying.

[SUMMARY: I can't die! I haven't written all the rules yet!]

Brother, you may need to educate yourself on the finer points of fibre to make an educated decision on equitable project distribution vis-a-vis stash desires.

Don't let the knitters guide you. They're lovely people, but morally... unpredictable when cashmere is as stake.

Speaking of the IRS, I got a couple of really splendid letters from them just before I left for the Lake. This will necessitate, I'm sure, HOURS of re-straightening what has already been straightened.

Fucking money suckers.

[SUMMARY: 1) Got almost all the way through a post without using the F-word, and 2) vampires one and all.]

TOMORROW: Lake. Maybe even a movie about a turtle if I can figure out how to post it.

SERIOUSLY: Murphy -- not the bastard lawyer, but the cute little doggie -- is no longer with us. More particularly, no longer with poor Sarah. Take a moment of silence for sweet, fuzzy, compelling Murph and cuddle your pets today, won't you? *sniff*

FOOTNOTE (crossed): Which sounds like a WWF bout or one of those monster truck rallies.

FOOTNOTE (double crossed): Out Of Town. I pronounce it as a single word... just so you can sing along at home.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Well, mostly his wife had the baby, but you know what I mean.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Curse you, Drunken Jackass!

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Like Christmas, or the two pairs of socks I want to finish before I go to NYC in October.

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