I like to spin. It keeps me calm, it gives my feet something to do while there's music playing, and it keeps me supplied with yarn. Spinning gives me a chance to play with colors and try new things. It's a conversation starter.
On a June day in Kansas, it's also a pain in the butt.
Oh, sure. The weather is gorgeous. The sun is out (usually), and there's often a nice breeze. But for spinning, it sucks.
See, June in Kansas regularly hits ninety degrees. Heat makes me sweat. When you add 70%+ humidity to that, things get... ugly. My face gets shiny, my skin feels sticky, and my hands become fiber magnets.
Nothing evaporates, thanks to the saturated atmosphere, which means those little stray fibers don't even have the decency to float away and become nesting material for hummingbirds. They're first stop is right on your hands, tying your fingers together. So you get mad and rub your hands on your pants.
Now you have a damp wad of fiber felted to your leg. Crap. Do you pick it apart and try to work it into your yarn? Maybe the first few times. By the fifteenth, you snarl and fling it to the floor.
It actually clings to your hand, leaving you muttering and flapping your hand like a show-off student who knows the answer while your spouse eyeballs you from the far side of the room and wonders if the savings account will cover the cost of sedatives.
You eventually give up the flapping and swearing and go back to spinning. That's when one single solitary fiber will find its way up your nose. You jerk your head to one side, trying to brush your nose against your shoulder without interrupting The Rhythm.
Fat chance. You can tape sandpaper to the shoulder of your shirt, but you ain't gonna get rid of that one stray fiber that's now dancing around your sinuses like a dust bunny on speed. You have to stop and blow your nose.
After blasting out your cranium, washing up, and returning to your wheel, it hits you. The fiber has gone from your nose to your eye. There is a strange horizontal line across your pupil and an indescribable sensation when you blink. Resist the urge to go after the fiber with your orifice hook. While you're at it, do not use the phrase "orifice hook" in the company of others. They already think you're nuts.
After the fiber is cleared from your eye with a liberal dousing of water, you realize that it, and many of its friends, are now stuck yet again to your hands. By this time you are hot, sweaty, sticky, and out of sorts. Fiber is no longer your friend, and will continue to be an annoyance for several hours. DO NOT RETURN TO THE WHEEL.
Grab a cold drink, prop yourself up on the bed with every available pillow, and veg. It is the only cure. It's supposed to rain tonight, which will clear the atmosphere. You can spin tomorrow. In the meantime, have you ever thought of taking up the kazoo?