say again?

I ran into someone from my knitting group at Borders the other day, a friend I hadn't seen in quite a while. (Aside: isn't it weird when you run into someone in a place that's not where you normally see them? It takes a few seconds for it to sink in. "Hi! . . . Oh, whoa, HI! What are you doing here?" I ran into Ms. Rereading Proust at the blood donor center one time and that was just bizarre. We still talk about it.) Anyway, my friend hadn't been to knit night in a while, and I remarked on that as we were chatting. She replied, "Oh, I don't knit in the summertime." There was a palpable thirty-second silence in which I stared at her blankly. I managed (just barely) to keep myself from asking, "What do you mean, you don't knit? What DO you do?" I can't even imagine. I'm so restless and fidgety, um, all the time, that if I didn't knit, I would go completely crazy. I would have the shiniest house in the world, and the spice rack would be alphebetized and I would probably pressure-wash the sidewalk every Saturday and give the cats exciting hairdo's and they would hate me. Knitting soaks up all of my crazy restless energy and gives it back as pretty socks. I'm not sure what I did before I knit, but I'm sure it drove people crazy, whatever it was.