Granted. You learn how to knit. You find that you love knitting. You knit more and more, continuing to knit until your living space is full of afghans and sweaters. It's not enough. You need more. More yarn. More stuff to knit. A flock of sheep turns up dead, sheared, and with satanic markings carved into their flesh. The authorities find out too late that you've begun knitting Death's Sweater, the one article of clothing that the grim reaper can wear to manifest in the physical plane, ushering in the age of all death. You die, painlessly, your breath being plucked away from you by death the moment you complete the sweater. Your restless spirit remains as the world ends, desperate for more yarn, and physical form. Learning to knit has filled you with a desire that for eternity shall never go fulfilled. Yours is a pathetic existence. Perhaps if you took up embroidery this wouldn't have happened.
I wish I were more motivated to get things done in a timely manner. ^_^