I just haven't reached it yet.
No. I'm kidding. Sort of. I mean, it's true, I DO have a security blanket. Only now it's not for security, so much..exactly.
When I was a kid, I suffered from chronic ear infections. Nothing comforted, eased, and consoled quite like an antibiotic and my blankie. The blankie was a crocheted affair of green and yellow and white. The stitch was open and airy and Blankie was always cool and soothing on my aching ear. Blankie was a fantastic companion, but mind you, only at night. I, unlike Linus, didn't drag poor Blankie everywhere. For even at that tender age, I understood needless travel would shorten its lifespan.
And to good purpose, might I say. Blankie stayed with me even as medical science cured my ear infections. Blankie spent each day tucked safely under my pillow, and each night as a cool cushion atop my pillow for a nightmare-free sleep. Blankie ventured out to grandma's house and on vacation, but only under constant vigilance and care.
Blankie led a very sheltered life. But an important one. Instead of earaches, eventually, Blankie eased parents' punishment and broken heart.
Blankie eventually moved to Evanston with me. Blankie did a lot of propping up my head while I read away many a winter's night. Blankie eventually went international, moving with me to Toronto. Blankie stuck with me when a husband replaced it as preferred cushion, consoler, and confidant.
Of course, after 31 years, Blankie eventually wore out. The light, airy stitches gave way to holes. The green, yellow white varied yarn faded to a mossy blech color. The nail polish crust in the center softened, but never quite disappeared.
In the interest of preserving Blankie (perhaps the Smithsonian will want it someday), I decided it needed to be retired. Not given away or (perish the thought!) thrown away, but retired. I found Blankie a safe bin in my closet, protected from dust bunnies and comfortably far from the Goodwill pile. Blankie took up good company with its old friend, Teddy, who retired when my first puppy thought it was a chew toy.
What does some one do when she finds herself in her early 30s and in the market for a new transitional object? Knit one, of course. I obtained some purple (if I'm makin' my own, I'm choosin' my color) yarn and set to work. But, let's be honest, people. I wasn't knitting the Mona Lisa. I didn't make beautiful, scalloped stitches. I didn't go back and fix mistakes. I was knitting for speed. Blankie was fading fast--I don't think there was another wash left in it--and the replacement needed to be ready to step up. Quickly.
Well, haste is not, probably, the best quality for a knitter. Purple Blankie cannot be trusted. As it turns out, slipped stitches in a knitted blanket can become lethal in your sleep. I woke up a few nights ago to find Purple Blankie's mistakes wrapped around my neck in an attempt to strangle me. I'm not inclined to find its motives, be they vengeance, feelings of inadequacy to Blankie, or anger at being left under the pillow all day. Whatever the reason, Purple Blankie is out to get me, and it must be stopped. Just look at those traitorous tentacles:
Fortunately, my parents took a road trip last fall and brought me all kinds of crap from the attic of their house. Some of the crap was crap, but there are 3 promising Purple Blankie replacements: None of the candidates are as soft as Blankie or even Purple Blankie for that matter. All of the candidates have the drawback of being partly or entirely pink. None of the candidates appeal to me in that basic, essential, I will cradle your head and make your sleep more comfortable way.
There was a reason those inferior blankies were left in the attic all those years. They suck. However, in these busy times, a woman just isn't able to carve out a weekend to knit herself a new blankie. The blankies sold in stores now are over-hyped microfiber, not knitted covers. The microfiber fails to stay cool and cushiony. It gets all hot and matted. Good for covering drooly babies, not good for guaranteeing my comfort on the pillow. Ergo, I find myself choosing between the losers who didn't cut it as my security blanket when I was an infant.
My life has come full circle.
I'm testing out my options. I'll let you know when one of the losers emerge as a 'winner.'
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