creativity, run amok

The multitude of FFA scarves and the shawlette I just finished reminded me of the value of having deadlines for knitted projects. A deadline provides just the right amount of dedication, focus, and drive to actually get things completed in a somewhat timely fashion, instead of working on things for months at a time while pinwheeling from project to project.

With this in mind, I decided to concentrate on finishing a wool cardigan I have been knitting, while it is still chilly enough to wear it comfortably—i.e., before the end of February. I wanted to work out the final decreases at the tops of the sleeves during my peaceful early morning knitting time on Sunday morning...

But then I couldn't find the sleeves.

Sleeves are very deceptive little buggers. You finish the body of the sweater and pat yourself on the back for being at least 75% done with the darn thing, or so it seems. All that's left is the sleeves! They're just little tubes! I guess it has something to do with the perspective of where human eyes are located on our heads, but arms are a lot longer and wider around than they appear to be. This means sleeves are a heck of a lot of boring knitting, just when you are ready to be done and wearing the sweater. My mother gave me the great advice to knit them at the same time, so you are sure they match up no matter what and you don't have a second sleeve to do once you wrestle your way through the first.

So the fact that I couldn't find two sleeves that were so very close to being done set off a muted panic. I searched and searched and searched my work room. Unfortunately, my work room looked like this:

I had obvious problems with locating anything, let alone a set of sleeves, in there. It represented months and months of giving free rein to creativity and general sloppiness, resulting in a logjam of ideas and projects and inspiration and laziness.

Yesterday I dedicated a couple of hours to get it straightened out. The results were impressive, though most effort basically involved picking things up off the floor and shoving them into various containers and shelves against the walls:

Terzo said that it is now so clear in there, he couldn't think.

As for the sleeves, which can be seen hanging on the back of the rocking chair, already blocked and waiting to be seamed?

I found them in my office, on a completely different floor of the house, of course. I may be able to organize my work space, but there seems to be little hope for my cluttered brain.