Photo Credit: Sona Wink
If you’re anything like me, you have watched every movie and TV show imaginable, often feel too restless to read, and yearn to do something with your hands. It’s time to turn to crafts. Here’s a comprehensive and mildly autobiographical guide to hobbies for the clumsy and impatient.
- Get your materials in place. Dig out that ball of yarn from the junk drawer. No needles? Try used pencils, chopsticks, or barbeque skewers.
- Google “how to knit.” Follow along. When you create a ball of knots, throw it on the ground in a huff. Repeat this process several times in two hour intervals.
- You will eventually get the hang of it. As you weave little yarn loops with the pencils that you dug out of your dejected backpack, reflect upon the time when you used pencils for learning facts and writing information. *Sigh.*
- Realize mid-project that the…thing… you’re making will have no value or purpose in your life, let alone a categorization. An unnecessary springtime scarf? A non-absorbent hand towel? A decorative mini rug? A baby hat? For whose baby?
- Scour the internet for a recipe that isn’t brownies for the third time. Settle on the recipe with the most appetizing photo.
- Spend the next several minutes scrolling through the full-length memoir that the author decided to include before letting you view the recipe. Take some time to reflect during your trek to the bottom of the page. Why did Sally of Sally’s Baking Addiction make this so long? Why did she include six giant photos of batter? Sally, I’m sorry, but I have no interest in reading an in-depth exploration of flour brands and your relationship with your estranged sister. I came here to bake, goddamnit.
- Hesitantly pour yeast into a bowl of warm milk and sugar. Try to recall the Biology lecture about yeast that you have completely wiped from memory. Is yeast alive? It’s a fungus, right? Does it have a face? Why is it bubbling? Is it supposed to be making a squeaking noise? Is it going to eat me?
- After taking your creation out of the oven, realize the grave disservice you have done to yourself and your entire family. Over the next week, you and your loved ones will gain a collective ten pounds.
- Search for seeds on Amazon and struggle to find the non-scam amongst a sea of cucumber stock images.
- Once you’ve received your seeds, sprinkle them in a damp paper towel. Spritz them with a spray bottle each morning for multiple weeks and cling onto hope that you haven’t already killed them.
- Feel shocked when your seeds actually germinate, and then notice how uneventful your life must be right now for a millimeter of green tissue to be this exciting.
- Plant your germinated seeds in soil. Spend a bizarre amount of time each morning staring at your glorious creations. You are God. Give each sprout a name. Who needs a social life when you’ve got bean sprouts to tell your secrets to?
- When your plants are tall enough, plant them outside. As you transfer them to their new home, feel the same melancholy you’d imagine a parent would experience dropping their child off at college.
Your baby scarf is complete, your pastries are eaten, and your plant offspring are out of the house. Now you’re at a loss for what to do with yourself. For the first time in your life, you have more than enough time to do absolutely nothing. So why not try that? Sit on the floor, stare at the ceiling, look out the window. Try those breathing techniques you learned about in health class. Let your mind wander. Unlike yeast, stillness is a lot less scary up close.