Yesterday, as my errands drew to a close, I was putting the finishing touches on my imaginary schedule for today.
I had spent a measurable portion of the afternoon clearing space and getting things done.
A box that I had purchased many years ago for the express purpose of storing the crochet tools I used most often had worked like a charm for an indeterminate period of time, but in recent years it had gotten overrun with things:
So many things, I know longer really knew what was in the box, so I emptied it out and attempted to reverse entropy, and I was not entirely unsuccessful:
Having defeated one force of the universe (or at least imagining that I had) led me to believe that I was a lot more powerful than I actually am, and while I was going over the mental list of “things I will get done today” reality intruded, and someone in my household was struck by a phone tragedy which involved gravity and rendered the phone in question, not quite as usable as it was before gravity got involved:
My list of “things I was going to get done” rapidly changed.
Instead of working out all of the details of the strap for the Sangria Granny Square Purse, I now had an appointment at a nearby Genius Bar. Instead of figuring out how I would incorporate the sixteen flowers I had crocheted for the bag, I was going to be going back to the Genius Bar to pick up up the phone after the repairs were completed, and so the forces of the universe conspired to interrupt my crochet.
But determined crafter that I am, I did not let gravity or the space-time continuüm stop me completely.
While I did not get everything on my original list done, I did get the ends on all sixteen crochet flowers woven in:
and I even had time to rearrange them to form an arch and get this photo:
Life does not always hand us the schedule we want, and I know that on this planet with more than seven billion people, today there were fellow crocheters who had their schedules irrevocably altered in ways that cannot be remedied by a trip to the Apple Store Genius Bar, but I hope, that like me, they are able to return to their craft and ply their hooks the only way possible: one stitch at a time.