I have an addiction…not afraid to admit it. I am addicted to crocheting. Every hat I've ever made is like getting a hit. Only difference is that I'm not a strung-out dope fiend lurking around the block for a fix.
I came to that realization a few months ago after an incident in which I left my hooks and needles at the house. I was coming from one class at Los Angeles City College and was en route to Trade-Tech by way of the Metro Red and Purple Lines…then I panicked. I couldn't find my hooks in my huge bag of goodies, and then I went into withdrawal mode. All that and I was down to the last Washington in my pocket. So I had a decision…
Crochet hook, or 20oz Sprite?
Y'know somethin', the hell with a Sprite. I needed a hit. Took my butt down to the 99-cent store and spent my last buck on a hook so I can crochet some $#!%. And I got high. For every stitch I made, I got high.
Fast forward to August 3rd: Yesterday was a bit more extreme. I was riding on the Green Line and working on a tam when I looked for my favorite old, beat-up, and worn-out Los Angeles Lakers pouch full of hooks, needles, and scissors. And I was already in another area code when I noticed. I was pretty much f@$%ed. Found myself at the end of the line, in the city of Norwalk, scrambling to find some scissors and smaller hooks to finish the product. Later on after that little missing hook fiasco did my crochet addiction take me to Long Beach, where I got my next hit by purchasing some yarn at this upcycling store where I normally go. And again, I got high. I got high when I started a new hat on the way back to South Central L.A. and came back down after I completed it.
Yes, crocheting is like smoking crack. The only difference is you don't kill off your brain cells as you're merrily stitching along. Therefore, it's a good high.