Tuesday, December 16th – 10:50 p.m.
Chris and I are on the couch, in our pajamas, puppy nestled at our feet, (re)watching the last episode of season two of Mad Men. I am knitting away. I start thinking to myself,
“gee, I could probably finish this sweater tomorrow. After all, I’m half way done the second sleeve and there’s almost no finishing. Maybe I’ll just lay it out on my lap and see how much I have to do. Wait a mother loving minute!” (insert stream of expletives) *and scene*
Turns out I knit the entire first sleeve inside out and never once noticed. It seemed to me that I had two options: I could either rip out the whole sleeve, which, given my not so quick lace knitting skills seemed totally mental, or I could perform a scary operation. It was ten minutes to bed time when I started hacking.
It’s difficult to cut along a row of lace but I did my best. And ended up cutting into the body. More swearing.
Chris goes to bed and I work on getting the stitches back on the needles. I can’t even identify the stitches from the the knots that have formed from the million of little ends that have sprung forth.
I throw the effing thing to the corner of the couch and go to bed at half past midnight.
This morning I try to pick up the pattern where I left off, not so successfully and attempt grafting, three times before I actually take the time to look at what I’m doing and work it out instead of proceeding like a drunken idiot.
It’s not exactly seamless but I’ll take it.
I wonder if I can still finish today……