Have you ever had this experience:
You finish a session of knitting or crocheting and settle down in your anonymous room for a night of fitful, restless sleep, the kind of claustrophic somnolence only possible between the scratchy sheets of a mid-level hotel.
In the morning you dress, preparing yourself for another day of onsite work, and in tidying up your room, realize you’ve lost your crochet hook. You tear apart the bed. You fall on your hands and knees onto the not-so-clean carpet to peer under the bed. You riffle through your purse, computer bag and suitcase. No crochet hook.
You begin to sweat, an alarming development, because in an effort to limit the number of liquids traveling with you, you eschewed deodorant. You tear apart the bed again. You look behind the headboard. You plow through your computer bag for a second and third time. Nothing.
You despair. Tomorrow you will be spending five hours on aircraft. Toronto-Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh-Denver. Five hours with NO KNITTING, NO CROCHETING!!!!!!
You spend the day smiling at clients and taking voluminous notes, but your heart is heavy, because you know that neither the New Yorker nor 300 games of Minesweeper will transport you from the grim reality of modern air travel. You NEED YOUR KNITTING! You also know that even in Canada, that enlightened nation to the north, they don’t sell crochet hooks in the airport gift shop.
Ten hours later, you arrive back and your hotel room and dully plug your computer into the network to answer email. Sitting right next to the notepad, on the desk, in plain sight is your crochet hook.
Life is very, very sweet.
(Now who’s going to open the first LYS based in a major airport?)