I may never knit again!

I just finished a very intense three weeks of knitting. Two sweaters and patterns for deadlines! I swore, more than once over the last few weeks, that when it was all done I would never knit again. I couldn't figure out why I had done that to myself. What hubris had led me into that predicament? Anyone who knows me knows that housework is pretty low on my priority list and even lower on the list of things I like to do, so when I felt like I really wanted to vacuum the kitchen floor and clean up the dishes I knew that it was crunch time. It reminded me of my (long past) college days, when, the night before a big final exam, I had the urgent need to render my dormroom immaculate, organize my textbooks and papers and make sure all my laundry was clean, folded and put away. Only then could I buckle down and hit the books. Apparently, I find looming deadlines incredibly motivating. I haven't experienced this type of self inflicted stress since the night before my last paper was due in the last course of my formal education.

So why do I do this? Why do I set myself up like this? While it's probably obvious to the casual observer, I just finally figured it out. It's the way I felt when the test was done, when the papers were on the instructors' desks. It's the way I felt on Monday afternoon when I shipped out the last package. It's the immense feeling of relief, of freedom, of feeling like I have climbed a great mountain, after taxing my abilities, pushing to see how far I can go, to finally stand up, look around and enjoy the landscape around me. It's the freedom to let my mind wander freely after having to focus hard on one thing and one thing only - getting it done. It's the complete and total release, after being consumed with one goal, of being able to let any old thought flit through my mind unfettered, to muse and wonder on the way home from the post office, "What should I knit next?"

P.S. I have three surprises coming up. Two will be revealed this spring/summer and one will wait until fall.