Add This to the List of Terrible Things

The closest yarn store is closing down. The Shuttle Shop in Warsaw, Indiana will be closing its doors. Please pause for a moment while I weep uncontrollably.

I bought my first sock yarn at The Shuttle Shop. Kathy taught me to felt, showed me the Magic Loop, and informed me that I was doing my yarn overs backwards when I couldn't figure out why my shawl didn't look like the sample.

The Shuttle Shop was where Mom picked up the wool for my favorite Fiddlehead Mittens, which I wear every winter because they are the best. Mom knitted me a lovely cashmere sweater with yarn from the Shuttle Shop, the sweater I wore to my grandmother's funeral because it felt like a hug and I really needed one then.

The Shuttle Shop was where both Mom and I learned to love to knit again. And it is a good place, and I will miss it very, very much.

Change Is Evil and Should Not Be Permitted

Blogger has a new format. And it is confusing and a little frightening, but mostly it is just so minimalist that I can't tell what part of the editor is the part I'm supposed to write in and what part is the frame around it. In short, change is evil and I HATES it.

In other news, I am getting a new stereo in the car, which is great because the old one does not work, but evil because the circle that my radio sits in will all have to be replaced, meaning my heat and air conditioning controls will be DIFFERENT and therefore WRONG and EVIL.

And I have purchased a plane ticket and registered for BEA (Book Expo America), and while that is hugely exciting and will be completely fabulous, the act of making a CHOICE that will CHANGE my life in some way has made me so nervous, anxious, and unsettled that I have been on the brink of a panic attack since Sunday.

That would be sad, but understandable, except for the fact that I made ANOTHER minor-life-changing choice last week, and the simple act of asking to change my work schedule had me on the brink of a panic attack since Monday of LAST week, meaning this is week number two of sheer terror, and I have resorted to using a quarter dose of Tylenol PM as a light sedative in order to function*. Also it feels as if someone is strangling me, because of the tightness in my throat caused by maxing out on adrenaline.

In other words, I am a complete wreck. I do not know why this sort of thing happens to me. I wish it didn't. And if getting rid of the panic was a simple matter of powering through it and doing the thing anyway despite the terror...I would already be cured. So instead, I yawn a lot (due to the strangling sensation), do deep breathing exercises, knit, and try to distract myself from the situation.

And I hope it will go away, because there is something inherently depressing about going through your life unable to do anything different without being struck down by panic attacks. So this post exists because I want to complain, loudly and publicly, about this situation. I do not like it. I am frustrated by it. And I really am excited about BEA and all the other new things...or I will be, soon.

* Before you ask, yes, I have seen a doctor about this. I was prescribed a POWERFUL medication that knocked me out for several days and remained anxious throughout that time. The only difference was that I had suddenly been changed into a potato, and no one seemed to notice it but me. Needless to say, I did not take a second dose. The doctor also gave me another ineffectual medication which served only to make me yawn every thirty seconds and also did nothing for the anxiety. After trying that, I told him "NO medication," and that is where we are today.

Falling Apart

Yesterday I was working with a student assistant and she said, "I have to go to the orthopedist tomorrow."

And I said, "Why?"

And then she bent her wrist and I saw that she had a BUMP where her hand met her arm bones, and I thought, "Oh." And she said, "I have an inflamed cyst on a joint." And then I bent both my wrists and one was normal and the other HAD AN IDENTICAL CYST TO HERS.

Because I am me, I then poked, prodded, bent, and pressed my wrist in many ways. Now my wrist bump REALLY HURTS.

I also did some research, and it should go away on its own, except that I'm supposed to rest my wrist and not use it so much and that means NO KNITTING.

I am still knitting.

So it turns out that there is a great likelihood, should you describe a personal oddity or disease to me, that I already have said disease or oddity. So new rule: Never tell me about your health problems.

I am thinking of getting a wrist brace, so I can still knit.

I bet this problem is because I'm not allowed to be happy. For the same reason that things break as soon as I buy them and also my family gives me stuff they don't want just as soon as I manage to herd together all the stuff I don't need and take it to Goodwill, because my room just has to be cluttered.

Typing kind of hurts.

Part of me feels like the bump is ALIVE and trying to kill me, and it creeps me out in the same way the description of a bruise does; I know it will not kill me but it freaks me out nonetheless. It is like having a spider UNDER MY SKIN only I cannot kill it or get rid of it. I am mildly freaking out.

Mom says she has had these before. I feel like there should have been some prior warning about that. Have any of you had these? What should I DO?

*panics*