I am a constant knitter. On any given evening, it’s a safe bet that I can be found sitting in my living room with yarn and needles in hand. I wouldn’t think of getting on an airplane or going to a medical appointment without a portable project tucked into my bag. If you invite me to a summer concert in the park, my knitting will be right next to the bottle of wine in the picnic basket.

I am a fidgety person. I cannot sit quietly without something to occupy my hands. On those rare occasions when I don’t have knitting nearby, my fingers make mischief. I shred wet cocktail napkins, pick my cuticles, pull at loose threads in my clothing until my hems come loose. The proverb tells us “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” and in my case, it’s true.