Damp

Of course, there are those times in ones life where common sense might just be overwritten by intelligence. We all know the stories about the brilliant, but absent minded professor. There is nothing gender specific about this, trust me. Traditionally, the image that comes to mind is a middle aged man with spectecles wandering around with messy hair, a confused look, and leather patches on a tweed jacket.

(In the old days, we would all have added a pipe to his pocket). The female equivalent normally has her hair messily in a bun, wire-rim glasses, dumpy clothes and sensible shoes. (Interesting isn’t it that we don’t bother about mens’ shoes?)

Now, fast forward to the less than organized knitter. An individual who others around her view as bright, knowledgeable, and competent.

There is this shawl blocked and slowly drying that needs to go in a suitcase on Thurs and will be used in a wedding this weekend. It was sunny out. There is this picnic table outside.

blocking mat on table. Shawl staked to mat with blocking wires and pins. Sunshine on pale ivory.

Nice. It should dry.

Suddenly it is 2200 and my mind says – oooohhh it is dark out. When the temp drops the dew starts landing on everything here because of the humidty.

I . left. the . shawl. out. on the picnic table.

Rescue run, it is a bit less damp than before the whole brilliant attempt to speed things up, but not as dry as it was at 1830.

And me without a hairdryer.