Something occurred to me, today, while reading another knitter’s account of how they surreptitiously touch strangers’ knits:
People might think I’m creepy.
If you happen to see me on the subway or bus or just out in the city and I’m staring intently, please know that I’m not being a creepy-stalkery-douche nozzle. Odds are (if it’s the winter time*) I’m staring at a hat or scarf or gloves, trying to suss out the stitch pattern and/or how it was constructed and/or what it’s made of. I realize that I do this: stare while trying to work these things out. It just wasn’t until a few minutes ago, thought, that it occured me that other people may see me doing this and not realize what I’m doing.
I’ve mentioned it before, my theory that we’re all traveling along throughout our days, in our own little bubbles. This is one of those examples of how we don’t realize that people can see into that bubble; like being in your car giving a blockbuster-diva-performance of And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going at a red light not realizing that people are staring. Hm. Maybe that only happens to me?
Anyway, it’s not like I’ve ever been caught cruising a person’s knitwear…at least…not that I know of. I mean, in New York we’re all barely visible to each other until there’s body contact. Just ask a homeless person on the F train asking for change. and even if i ever was called out on it, i have a reason...
So, if we do cross paths and it seems like I'm staring, please know that I’m probably counting stitches or trying to figure out how that cable pattern was worked. besides, it's not like reached out and grabbed your scarf like some knitters might...
I'm not Jack the Ripper, I'm Cawfee the Knitter
*if it's not winter, i might be trying to get someone to move out of my way, Jean Grey style