(Figurines available here - no affiliation.)
Then I got to thinking, “It’s a bent knitting needle. I have knitting needles. I could bend one.” And I did have the needles but then the little voice started telling me how hard it would be. I would need to heat the metal needles to get them to bend smoothly.
“OK,” I thought, “I’ll use the oven”.
But if I heated metal needles in the oven the coating might burn or smoke or melt or something.
“OK,” I thought, “I’ll do one and see what happens.”
But they are not all made by the same company. What works with one needle might not work with another and the next one might melt and ruin the oven.
“Well” I thought, “I’ll just give it a go.”
When you bend the needle it will be hot and you’ll burn yourself. And if you use a cloth or gloves you won’t be able to get a good enough grip on the needle and it will go wrong.
“That is quite offputting.” I thought to myself. “But a teatowel should be fine.”
When you bend it, it might snap and bits will fly off into your eyes and blind you.
“Yes that is very offputting.” I thought. “I’d better wait til I have some eye protection.”
And so on. So of course then about 6 months passes and I still haven’t so much as moved a knitting needle near the oven.
Yesterday is when everything changed. I had had a fairly bloody day and was grumpy. I’d had enough of listening to ‘the man’ and wanted to stick two fingers up to the world and do what I wanted – much like a 17 year old. I was, in fact, in a perfect mood to quell the little voices. I was also, and this is important, wearing one of my Sassafras bracelets.
So I got home. I got a plastic beaker. I retrieved one of my pretty metal needles form my stash. I bent it round the beaker. It didn’t bend perfectly so I bent it a bit more by hand. And it was good.
(Sassafras needle is blue, obviously)
Then I did some more.
So to summarise, sometimes it is good to channel your inner 17 year old. And if you're reading this and you are 17, it all gets worse from here. Chin up.