Springsteen was right:

I get up in the evening
and I ain't got nothing to say
I come home in the morning
I go to bed feeling the same way
I ain't nothing but tired
Man, I'm just tired and bored with myself
Hey there baby, I could use just a little help

I so know how this guy feels. I'm just tired all the time. Working really takes it out of you. I had no idea.
But I knit to forget. Recently I finished this:



It's clapotis. It took me a while to get around to knitting this pattern, but it's been on my to-do list for a while.
I've decided to express my feelings about the knitting of this piece in a poem, both because I was feeling particularly lyrical today, and also to pay homage to the third annual Nýhil international poetry festival which starts this friday and I'm sure will be very fun. Fun fun. Good fun. If anyone should find themselves in the Reykjavík area this weekend, I recommend it.
Anyhoo, here goes:

Red Wrap

Stitches march
down
leaving in their wake a ladder
unused
cat burglar
opportunity
I will never return to
this voluptuous pattern