On Thursday night, I finally had enough. I had made it through the body and almost ran out of yarn. I had evaluated and decided to use leftover sock yarn to do a garter stitch edge on the skirt of the sweater and managed to save enough yarn to do sleeves. I made it through the sleeves, picked up the button band and made it through three rows before I noticed the puckering and general unhappiness.
I snapped. RR watched me throw it across the room, looked at me and said, “so…not liking the sweater?”
The man definitely has a firm grasp of the obvious.
So I ripped it. With gusto. Then I knit a cute little beret and am happy. Baby’s mom is happy, baby will be happy and that’s all that matters. ;o)
So…riddle me this: why do I keep finding myself staring at the leftover yarn cake and contemplating how well wool will burn? It might be time for a ritual cleansing… ;o)