Stolen moments, or: Knitting on My Mind

In my car is my green army medical drawstring bag with my Socks for Soldiers materials in it.

On my loveseat is Shedir. The knitting sits on the seat, with the next skein in a foldy file next to the couch. The chart keeper sits perfectly over the left arm of the loveseat with the marker magnet in place, ready to go at a moment's notice.

On the far side of my queen-sized bed, far enough away that I will not roll onto it as I sleep, is Snug Harbor, with the yarn on the floor on that far side.

In the morning, I knit on the black sock at that interminably slow red light on my way out of my complex. I come home in the evening, eat dinner, take care of the babies, try to clean up some of the house, do a bit of stuff for work or church or what have you, and sit down on the couch with Ella at my side and Lulu in a bed at my feet to sneak in a few rounds of Shedir once dinner and my chores are done, even though it is already kind of late and I really ought to go ahead and go to bed. When I can't concentrate on the cable pattern anymore, I put it down and take the pups upstairs, where they settle in to sleep while I get ready for bed. I slide under the covers, taking care not to disturb the pile of clean clothes I dumped on the foot of the bed earlier in the evening, and reach over for Snug Harbor. I knit until my lids start to fall. Then I shove it over to the far side of the bed again, roll over, and fade off to sleep.