Ah, that active squirrel mind that won't let go. Even while sleeping. Visions of sugarplums are for the children; I see knitted fabric. Swimming up from the depths come pattern possibilities, like those little messages in the fortune-telling "8-Ball."
One of them clamored to see life, so knit I did, because knit I must. Three-Button, Three-Flounce Cravat merely awaits those three beautiful porcelain buttons I envision, but they're in the store ten miles away, and the needles are right here.
I did it in a tencel/merino blend because that's what I had spun, and it uses less than 90 yards, because that's all I had left. I think the flounces would drape better if done in bamboo, to which purpose I began spinning some more of that pound of shimmery stuff in my stash, but then . . .
. . . but then came another sleep and another message from the depths, and so the wheel is working a sorrel-colored alpaca (because I had it) to ply with a sorrel-colored merino (because I have it), to knit into another neck-and-chest warmer for Hubbest, who needs it for his Harley.
I'm going to have to ask the visions to take a number and wait in line.