Over the last two weeks I've been knitting Jane Cochran's Hedgerow Socks as I've sat in airports, on planes, and in meeting after meeting. On my way home from Atlanta on Friday I turned the heels. And in the past day and a half I've picked up for the gusset and started decreasing down toward the foot circumference, creating those edge-on triangles that allow the pattern on top of the sock to slope gracefully over the top of the ankle.
At this stage of a sock I get focused. I want to get those decreases done. I need to get past the long held-breath transition of the heel and back to the basic shape of the sock. I need to be in the home stretch, where the pattern marches without alteration toward the toe, where the only question is when to stop. So I'm picking up these socks at every opportunity and knitting with determination to get past where I am to where I want to be.
Unfortunately, I can't work to get the next several days done any faster than the clock will tick. We're interviewing our last fifty candidates tomorrow, then completing our final evaluations. The dean and I have to huddle immediately afterward to to select the sixty-five students to whom we're going to make offers. Teaching assistants for next semester need to be selected before the end of the week; that's a day of reading and cogitating, and another meeting. There are regular classes to prepare for, too, although I'm resigned to falling behind on reading student work (preparatory assignments for their research papers and revisions of service learning reflections have to be prioritized over daily journals).
Happily, I don't have to worry about finding time to exercise. The 5K on Thursday is all I have to do, and my only workout will be to rest and stay limber. And then like cresting a hill, it's spring break, and I can set my own agenda. If I could stay up all night and knit my way through this spate of work, I would. But there's nothing to do but wait as it rushes toward me, and paddle as hard as I can when it arrives.