Just one more sti---------
The bus has become my new knitting venue. The drawback is that I know many people on my bus -- some friends from elsewhere in life, some friends I have met through shared rides on the AATA -- and I feel rude reading a pattern while carrying on a conversation. So if I know someone on board, the knitting has to wait.
Yesterday was a great day, though. I got on the bus just as it entered the transit center. The driver took a longer than usual break, so I had 2 rows under my belt before she even pulled out on her run.
I use my exit stops as incentives: can I finish this row before I have to get off? It's surprising how quickly I can knit when I have reason to.
Yesterday I was sailing along, seven stitches and two stops to go. Plenty of time to finish the row and pack up my yarn and pattern. When, what's this? Someone has pulled the cord for the stop before mine? No one ever pulls for that stop. It's just as close to my house as the stop I usually get off at, but because it's across a busy road, I never exit there.
Plus waiting for the next stop gives me an additional 35 seconds of knitting.
Yet here was the stop, the bus was slowing down, and I felt it would be selfish to pass up the opportunity to exit when it was happening anyway. For this same reason, I usually don't push the elevator button to the floor I need. Rather, I get off at a floor someone else has pushed for and walk the difference on the stairs. That way the elevator isn't stopping just for me. [And you thought I was without psychological pathologies?]
I quickly gathered my things, thanked the driver, and jumped out the rear door. As I got to the sidewalk, I felt a tugging on my bag. I looked down and a cord of coral yarn was stretched from my bag to the bus's door. I'd left my ball of yarn in my seat! I could hear the engine revving. I dashed back to bang on the rear door -- I was NOT going to have my half-finished sleeve and bamboo needles dragged around southwest Ann Arbor -- when it opened. A smiling man was standing there holding my yarn.
I don't know if I can ride that route again.
Yesterday was a great day, though. I got on the bus just as it entered the transit center. The driver took a longer than usual break, so I had 2 rows under my belt before she even pulled out on her run.
I use my exit stops as incentives: can I finish this row before I have to get off? It's surprising how quickly I can knit when I have reason to.
Yesterday I was sailing along, seven stitches and two stops to go. Plenty of time to finish the row and pack up my yarn and pattern. When, what's this? Someone has pulled the cord for the stop before mine? No one ever pulls for that stop. It's just as close to my house as the stop I usually get off at, but because it's across a busy road, I never exit there.
Plus waiting for the next stop gives me an additional 35 seconds of knitting.
Yet here was the stop, the bus was slowing down, and I felt it would be selfish to pass up the opportunity to exit when it was happening anyway. For this same reason, I usually don't push the elevator button to the floor I need. Rather, I get off at a floor someone else has pushed for and walk the difference on the stairs. That way the elevator isn't stopping just for me. [And you thought I was without psychological pathologies?]
I quickly gathered my things, thanked the driver, and jumped out the rear door. As I got to the sidewalk, I felt a tugging on my bag. I looked down and a cord of coral yarn was stretched from my bag to the bus's door. I'd left my ball of yarn in my seat! I could hear the engine revving. I dashed back to bang on the rear door -- I was NOT going to have my half-finished sleeve and bamboo needles dragged around southwest Ann Arbor -- when it opened. A smiling man was standing there holding my yarn.
I don't know if I can ride that route again.
Labels: knitting
posted by doulicia at 9:00 AM
2 Comments:
This is a great post--and absolutely, positively, a great example of what we all do when we are preoccupied.
Now, about the selflessness on elevators and busses, my dear...
Hh
Ha ha!
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