Basically, I try to be a nice person. If I bump into someone (or someone bumps into me), I mutter an "Oh, I'm so sorry" as I amble on by. And there have been more than a few apologies to my husband when I wake up and am crabby at him because of a bad dream that he has no control over. And who hasn't sent an "I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write back to you but the world ended for a few days and I was dead at the time" email? Right? I know you have.
But when it comes to knitting... fuggedaboudit!
I will NOT apologize that I have more yarn than room to store it, though don't we all? Yeah... I'm lookin' at YOU, sista-friend.
I will NOT apologize that I'd rather knit and half-ass watch a show that I previously loved and miss all the jokes because I'm counting K1, P1, K1, P1, ad nauseum.
I will NOT apologize that I have knit items blocking all over the living room and that I go through towels like a fiend during the fall/winter season as I lovingly wring out (read: stomp all over) my knitting before placing out for said blocking.
And lastly, I will NOT apologize that I lie awake at night, agonizing over how to start designing useful patterns. Seriously, do we need another scarf, people? I fall asleep thinking about how to make lacework in a new way. I wake up befuddled by how to cast on two-at-a-time socks (even though I've done it before). And I get through breakfast with the knowledge that at some point in the near future I'll be able to grab those lovely little needles, fondle my fiber, and get on to what I love doing. Knitting. No apologies necessary.