Scene: Potbelly’s at DuPont Circle
Time: Thursday night, waiting for friends to arrive
I’m sitting at a table, plugging away on the first for-me project in ages, a plain old sock in STR mediumweight, colorway: In the Navy. Above me (the joint has a little loft), a local musician is playing guitar and singing Christmas songs (and this bizzare song about visiting D.C.). I’m enjoying the music, happy to wait and knit.
The music stops; apparently, the musician’s set is over. He sits up in his loft, looking down at the restaurant. I’m focusing on my work, when I hear a whistle. I look up, and the guy catches my eye.
Guy: Whatcha doin’?
Guy: Knitting? Whatcha makin’?
Me: A sock (I hold it up).
Guy: (laughing) Really? Do you do this often?
Guy: This is what you like to do in your spare time??
Me: Yep. Keeps me busy.
Guy: (still laughing) Huh. To each their own!
Me: You bet.
It ended there, I went back to my knitting, but I had this second conversation with him in my head.
Me: Whatcha doin’?
Guy: Playing guitar and singing.
Me: Really? What are you playing?
Me: (laughing) Really? You do this often? Huh. To each his own.
Sheesh! I’m not sure why knitting in public is any stranger than playing music in public! I’m quieter and less obtrusive and don’t sing kitchy songs about visiting D.C.
Anyway, the sock: