Knotsewmuch

Last week I was having a taxes disconnect.  I really didn't notice, but Bruce and Margo thought I was a) going deaf, b) developing Alzheimers, c) losing my marbles. I would be sitting on the couch (knitting a sock) with the TV on (background noise) and was thinking about the taxes and what I had to get together to go to the accountant.  Bruce or Margo would walk into the room and ask me a question or make a statement.  I would respond and they would stand there.... stunned. What he SAID was: "I have to work tomorrow and the next day and I probably won't get home until late." What my RESPONSE was: "Great, then you'll have time tomorrow to call the stupid lawyer about the stupid check that they made out to the wrong stupid person."  There he stands.... stunned. What I HEARD was: "I have to work (I wonder if I have all of the  expense paperwork calculated)won't (does that show up in the register report?) late." Eventually the stunned

I've finally figured it out.  It has taken me a long time.  I am the victim of PATIENCE, or at least the concept of patience.  Here's what happens... I'm sitting, knitting.  It's usually socks because they are small and fit in my bag.  Anyway, it could be anything, a hat even.  A non-knitter begins a conversation asking what I am knitting.  After making the appropriate noises over my project, they let me have it...  "I wish I could knit, but I just don't have the patience." Sigh.  "Lady," I think (because they usually are women), "you have absolutely NO IDEA with whom you are speaking."  (and yes, I do think that way, my mom was a librarian and a primary school teacher). Patience.  It may be a virtue but it is NOT one of mine.  I suffer no fools gladly, I am  "Difficult to Manage" (per my past employment evaluations).  If you ask a silly question, you are liable to get a highly technical, factually accurate answer de