Jonesin' for the wheel

I don't often have this feeling. Tense, distracted, anxious, calculating, restless. I am aching to get a chance to spin. I don't often have this feeling because I would normally just sit and spin for awhile each week. But, it has been several weeks since I last spun. Too many things to do. Too much work, planning, packing, sorting, building, sewing, knitting, writing, cooking, calling, digging, washing, just too much stuff to do. Part of the planning was to get stuff on the sticks so that I had something to knit while we travel. I started three projects. In the process, I had to clean out some stuff in the wooly room and dig my way to the storage bed.
After I made a narrow path to the bed, the bags of fleece started whispering to me- "Spin me." " No! Spin me!" I took the Kiwi out and all my partially full bobbins. I plied until the bobbins were clear and put the Kiwi away. But the whispering didn't stop. Everytime I went into the room, the fleeces were rustling restlessly expecting to be taken out. One of them fell over and spilled a bit of fluff at my feet. As I gathered it back to itself, it called to me. "Touch me, feel me, spin me."
I gathered up the bobbins, the Joy and the fabric to make a bag. I got the sewing machine out and some sewing tools. I noticed that I was becoming tense and nervous in the room. But as I sewed the bag, I was not nervous at all. It was creative and useful and cheap- I was very happy with it. I started to fill it with the Joy, some bobbins, some tools, and some rovings. That is when the Jones started. Touching the roving made me very excited and anxious. I wanted to spin it right now. I wanted to unload the whole bag and spend the rest of the day spinning. Maybe into the night. Maybe all the next day too. Then I realized that the last time I actually spun anything was at the end of May. 2 1/2 weeks with no real wheel contact. The plying took but a moment and was only to clear off the bobbins. But real spinning, the feel of fiber slipping gently through my fingers, the soft smell of sheepyness, the gental whir of the wheel- it had been a long time and there was no time now to do it. I was packing for the trip. I would not spin for many more days. The anxiety was building and I started trying to find ways to sneak in some spinning- any spinning, even on a drop spindle.
That is when I realized I was Jonesin' for the wheel. I was in withdrawal. The fiber addiction had me down and writhing in discomfort as I calculted when I would next get a chance to spin. Friday night? Saturday at the meeting? Drop spindle in the car instead of knitting?
And the wooly room wasn't helping me at all. The color bottles and the white roving tried to convince me that there was time to dye a bunch for the road. The black fleece was saying, "Finish me, I am almost done. There is a sweater trying to get to you." My silk was making soft breezy sounds and the soy was reminding me that It was New and Exciting. What would I spin if I had the chance? I had packed about a pound of stuff, but I wanted to pack another pound- but why. I would not get enough time to spin 2 pounds of stuff. The Alpaca was saying, "Let me just touch you for a moment. You know you want to."
Yes, I want to. Yes, yes. No. I need to mow, and water, and do laundry. I need to cook dinner and pack the coffee supplies. I need to empty the car and wash the windows. I closed the door to the wooly room hoping that the phrase "Out of sight, out of mind" would help.
I am resting gently now. I am closer to being done packing and have most of the errands done. I am breathing softly and evenly and have clear thoughts. I will spin tomorrow on a drop spindle at the meeting- some white merino should be nice. Something thin and satisfying, and soft. Yes, I know. I gave in. But I just love the feel of the fiber.