That's the thought I've come up with after much ruminating this morning after a knitting/giving/donating fiasco that left me feeling very hurt and unappreciated.
Perhaps other knitters, crocheters, etc., that may come across this post can tell me how they deal with this sort of thing. I take knitting very seriously when I am crafting a gift for someone. I put a lot into it, as I believe one should. It's like cooking a wonderful meal for company - it's personal, it's a little piece of yourself, a caring and giving sort of thing.
I've had a busy week and maybe I'm over-sensitive right now because I'm very tired. This is what happened: I stopped by my library last week, to return some knitting books. The librarian excitedly suggested I knit something for the silent auction, and she gestured to a table that had some items on it. Crafts, made by locals. "When's the deadline?" I asked. She said Saturday (which is today).
So, this very busy week of mine was spent doing everything I had to do, and then working on knitting a pair of fingerless gloves. Fortunately I already had the pattern and the yarn from my stash. I could not start working on it until mid-week, and then had to frog it because I made a big error. Suffice it to say, I was up til the wee hours last night (this morning, really). I really wanted to do this. I went to bed late, got up after 4 hours, and this morning - the day of the auction - I finished the work. I was weaving in ends an hour before the library opened.
But I made it in time! I wanted to meet the challenge and be part of this effort to raise funds for the local library, to have my work share the table with other local people's work, to have people take a gander at what I made and say "Hmmm. Maybe I'll bid on that. I kinda like it."
So I package it up pretty with a care tag, and off I go. It was 15 minutes til opening time but I wanted to get there early so they'd have plenty of time to do whatever little arrangement needs to be done. This is a small town, mind you, not the Guggenheim, so I don't need to tell you that my jaw dropped when the librarian (a different one from the one earlier in the week) told me "Aw, you're too late."
"But I just finished them this morning!" I was too tired to be angry. I was just plain confused.
"It looks pretty, too." She said, casting a sideways glance, "There's no more room though. The table is filled." I was trying to form a sentence, but she was already into her work, checking in some books. I mumbled, "Maybe next year-", but my words didn't match my feelings, and she wasn't listening to me anyways. I felt thoroughly dismissed and rejected.
My thoughts were falling apart due to lack of sleep and working with a tricky pattern, and suddenly I felt so hurt that I could not think at all and just had to get out of there. I did a quick look at the table - surely there could be a space somewhere on there to set a pair of gloves - ? There was a lot of stuff, but room could be made, I mean, c'mon! Some items were even draped over the chairbacks around the table. Besides the fact that I was told I had until Saturday to donate-? But I was too hurt to argue, and if she didn't want these lovelies, then she could go fffffffffly a kite!