As a college student, I very rarely experience what I would call a "full" day. Days full of class, or (more often) days filled with reading and writing, yes. Days in which I'm too busy to brush my hair or eat more than popcorn (bless you, you sweet self contained microwaveable food), certainly. But days in which I wake up early, spend several hours roaming between different events and errands, then return home happy (if a little worn down)--those are few and far between. (I traffic in mental exhaustion--the likes of which keeps me shuffling through thesis research and grad school applications rather than writing blog posts--so admittedly, my sense of physical exhaustion is a wee bit warped.)
Today, because of a concurrence of wonderful events, was such a day.
I was up by 8 (a full 3 hours and 15 minutes before our campus expects a Saturday morning to begin) for the fourth annual AIDS walk (warning: there is a short video). This is my third walk, but Daniel's first, so I was excited about registering early and getting a good place in the walking order. A good friend of ours was in charge of leading the walk this year so I figured we'd start out near him--however, he'd been told to set a brisk pace (as there are usually a few walkers who want to finish quickly), so I assumed that (being so very out of shape) I'd eventually fall behind.
We were clipping along, and somehow (I suspect the Wii Fit was involved) I was keeping up. When we reached the first point in which the route gets confusing (we turn off of a well designated road into a neighborhood with lots of turns), we glanced behind us and realized that of the 500+ walkers signed up, there were only 9 of us keeping pace. The rest of the walkers were so far back that they were almost out of site--we had at least 150-200 feet of clearance, and frankly....it made me feel pretty darn good.
Because of our speed, we made it back to the dorms just after 10 and had a small breakfast and a very important Twitch hydration hour. Then....we went to the yarn carnival.
I've had a rough couple of weeks populated by all manner of disappointments and set backs; the kind of days which the Yarn Harlot labels as "the universe seeking balance" and which (when put together in such an unrelenting sequence) tend to leave me curled up in a corner petting yarn and muttering to myself.
On Thursday evening I serendipitously stumbled across news of a new yarn store in the area which would be celebrating its Grand Opening today, and well....I lost my shit a little bit. I started jumping up and down, and counting yarn points (ask me in another post), and begging Daniel to let me go. It seemed like the perfect thing to cheer me up--brand new yarn in a brand new home, with sales and give-aways. And because I'd just gotten the news, I didn't even have to wait long!
As I slogged through Friday (and some more "balance"), I kept the yarn store grand opening in the back of my head....and it began to swell to epic proportions in a worrisome way. I have a tendency to get my hopes up. I do it often, and I always chastise myself afterward, but apparently I'm a very slow learner. Last weekend we'd attending a "season tasting" (yes, shudder at the name, it was gross---but we were promised delicious free food) at a local grocery store, and I'd built up hopes of finding it a magical autumnal fairy land, with slices of pumpkin pie and cider, and good cheer and fellowship of man and blah blah Charlie Brown blah. It was (as you probably guessed it) nothing of the sort. It was a crowded, overly hot, mess filled with rude patrons who shoved past you or rolled over your toes with their carts as they made a bee line for the last of the stuffing or the 1 inch cubes of pumpkin pie.
So when I started talking about how wonderful the Yarn Store Grand opening was going to be, I think Daniel got a little worried. I started by talking about the yarn selection--would they have Malabrigo? What about the Handmaiden I'd been hunting in the wild for a few months? By midday I was speculating over the what sort of entertainment there would be (other than, of course, the fondling of a multitude of beautiful soft precious glorious yarn)--the internet had hinted at demonstrations, and famous knitters, and music and snacks and maybe even contests.
By the evening I was gone. I envisioned what can only be described as a yarn carnival--with Yarn streamers festooning the ceiling, balloons out front, and an impromptu silk tent in the parking lot. There would be yarn ball jugglers and calliope music and friendly clowns making balloon animals dressed in wee sweaters. There would be acrobats doing ball winder tricks, and free samples from yarn vendors, and maybe (just maybe) a bit of magic--not too much, we wouldn't want to over shadow the yarn.
As we pulled up to the quiet shop front this afternoon--sans clowns, acrobats, and jugglers--I could feel the foreboding welling up in my stomach.
But after spending an hour and a half at the actual yarn store grand opening (which was filled with beautiful yarn, nice and mostly polite knitters, and a few door prizes), I realized that I hadn't swelled my hopes to high.
Who needs a yarn carnival? I just would have ended up inside the store fondling yarn anyways--and this way there were no creepy clowns or jugglers getting the yarn dirty.