Posted on April 24, 2005 at 5:00 am

While I was reading the paper this morning, the Boy came into the kitchen. I thought that he was being watched by one of the other three people who live in my house.  I was enjoying a rare moment with The New York Times.  For the first time in a week I was alone.  I was determined to be able to continue to enjoy it.  I figured if I avoided eye contact I could escape yet another round of Monster Truck meets countertop flour dunes.  It was someone else’s turn.  I did not look up until he announced that he had brought me my knitting.  Then I saw this.


Looks innocent enough, until I wondered "Where is the needle that it was on?"  And then I noticed this:  A trail of yarn leading out of the kitchen.


Across the parlor.


Down the hall.


Into the T.V. room


where I had left my knitting last night.


It could have been worse, I suppose.

In my house, the run from the kitchen to the is about 75 feet.  If I lived here


it could have been many times that (assuming you could find a kitchen).

But it could have been not so bad.  If I lived here; sure, it would have been about the same.  But with only one level, there’d be a lot less cleaning.  More time for knitting.


What about an apartment in Paris?


Twenty feet. (or 6 meters, as they say EVERYWHERE ELSE IN THE FREAKING WORLD)

Or in an Airstream trailer parked somewhere in Idaho on a partly cloudy June day?


He could just point.  Distance unravelled? none.

Maybe I need a smaller house. 
Still, I was proud of the little guy.  Now maybe I can teach him to clean up the flour.