Wasting time and making excuses.

Having finished all the pages for my fabric book I have been amusing myself by recycyling a lot of oddments of yarn into a sort of tunic-cum-pullover.

It may only ever get worn for gardening but will be quite useful on cooler days worn over a shirt or poloneck jumper.

I'm amazed it fits as it was knitted, not with chunky yarn as the pattern stated but with all sorts of yarns, tape and ribbon and on smaller needles, but I did work out from the tension details how many extra stitches I would need.  Luckily there was no shaping involved - it is just two oblongs put together leaving an opening at the neck.  There should have been sleeves but I ran out of interesting leftovers so settled for a matching trim at the armholes.
Not terribly flattering but it will hide a few lumps and a spare tyre.

I have managed to avoid working on the cover for my book but have been thinking about it while knitting and am nearly ready to take the plunge and start work on it.

How do we manage to kid ourselves that our actions are perfectly reasonable?  For weeks now I have wanted to start drawing in a sketchbook.  I thoroughly enjoyed the course I did a couple of years back so I know I can draw - after a fashion if not to my satisfaction - but the thought of making another start makes me instantly find something else to do and make excuses for not drawing, or making my book cover, come to that.   I will do both eventually because I really want to.  It's a bit like wanting to swim but knowing the water will be cold!  I'll jump in when I'm ready.

I thought I would be wise when I was old - sadly I am just old.