Three Twisted Stitches

I have profess'd me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness ~Othello, the Moor of Venice

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

NOTE TO SELF

NOTE TO SELF: When altering a pattern, DO NOT ASSUME YOU WILL REMEMBER WHAT ALTERATIONS YOU MADE!

Stupid, right? Any moron with the ability to knit should know this, correct? Sure- I must have killed off all of the 'common-sense' brain cells, because I didn't write them down. And to make things worse, it was while working on a pair of gloves. So one glove is perfect. You've seen it- it's the gray winter gloves I'm making for my dad.
While I don't have a picture for you, I will attempt to convey the gravity of my mistake without bursting into tears. I'm sure if I do, my roommate will be 100% certain of my insanity.
*deep breath*
None of the fingers are the same width. The pinky is too thin, the index finger is too wide. The two in the middle are fine, which means that I picked up 1-2 too many stitches on the index, and that left me with too few on the pinky. And since, I happily completed the index finger first, fixing it would require me frogging all four completed fingers.
This is only one of the few obstacles that I have stumbled over while trying to complete this project. The other is that the pinky and ring fingers are both WAY too short. My fault for not measuring properly. And finally (and this is the worst one, in respect to my stupidity) while weaving in the ends on the index finger, I managed to sew the front of the finger to the back. And I can't find the end to undo it.
The knitting goddesses HATE ME! I've been doing so well! I had finally picked up that teal and cream "cool [girls] knit" cardigan from Knitty.com, and had completed one sleeve and cast on the second. The socks are finished, I'm working on that Wonderlust hoodie... and then a second disaster struck this evening whilst watching Brisco County Jr. (don't ask, childhood TV show...) and knitting my cardigan.
I can't find my other ball of teal yarn.
I had a feeling that I hadn't brought it with me to college, so when I decided to pick up this project again, I checked my stash. I double-checked it. I triple checked it. I quadruple checked it, then pulled every skein/ball/hank of yarn out of their hiding spaces, dug as far back as my arms would allow, searched every possible nook and cranny, and even the improbably, and most definitely impossible places. No show with the teal cascade superwash wool. Then the thought occurred to me that maybe I had left it at home with the remainders of my stash, thinking that I wouldn't need it. When I went home this past weekend, I checked my diminished, pitiful looking stash in my closet. (see above process, and repeat. Twice.)
Thus I have come to the only possible explanation: evil dwarf-sized moths that have sneaked into my apartment during the night, stolen a select few delicacies to feed to their parasitic tubular offspring, AND I CAN'T FINISH MY SWEATER!!!! I've been on a personal vendetta against moths based on this conclusion, and if one of those flittering little monsters so much as shakes an antenna at me, it's toast. I'm thinking of investing in a bug light to hang on the balcony. I could sit, and watch, and just enjoy the little electric "bzzt" noise as each devilish insect is burnt to a glorious crisp.
Diabolical? Yes. Insane? Most definitely. But hey- when it comes to protecting the stash, a knitter will go to any length, short of cutting of their own arm. (You need two hands to knit!)

I suppose I could blame the creative juices for this rash outburst of blather, but that wouldn't be fair. I'll just chalk another one up to insanity.

Binding Off

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