To sock club, of course. But life is crazy right now -- the moving truck arrives on Tuesday, and I'm technically homeless for the foreseeable future (not to worry, of course -- I've gotten many, many offers of places to crash until I find a job and, more importantly, pin down a location).
So, no stable address to send packages, little time to actually knit. I have to say no to a three month, reasonably-priced sock club from a gorgeous dyer, right?
Or maybe I can argue that the socks will keep me sane. It's probably telling that I haven't shared the name of the sock club, although if I were smart, I would, and then all the memberships would be gone.
The Artful Dodger, helpfully illustrating how difficult it is for me to take picture of my knitting on the lawn with this attention whore around.