So. Knitting.
The Stripey Sweater of Intimidation is going. The first sleeve has given me very little trouble, until I reached the end of the armhole shaping instructions and still had twice as many stitches as I should have. After puzzling over it and adding up how many stitches I've got and checking several times for errata, I've just kept decreasing and it seems to have come out more or less the right shape and length. I'm very tired of knitting this thing. It's been one problem after another for me, and I'm ready to have done with it.
I also blame the Stripey Sweater of Intimidation for me buying more yarn even though I shouldn't have. See, even though I obsessively double-checked my yarn amounts when ordering, I still didn't order enough. So I had to order an extra skein. I actually ordered two extra skeins, because with my luck I still won't have figured it correctly and I've got plans for a pair of fingerless gloves. Well, two pairs. And this yarn can go to one of those. And you can't just place an order for two skeins, so I also threw in two pairs of socks' worth of sock yarn. And a cable needle. I know, I fail.
While The Sweater was in time-out, I started another pair of socks. Yep, rather than knitting up the companion to one of the several orphans I've got lying about. I know, I know. I'm using Cascade Fixation. The yarn looked bright and cheerful online, then when I actually received it the skeins looked like garish clownbarf. Then when I started knitting the cuff the colors looked bright and cheerful again. The sky-blue and lilac blended perfectly with the yellow and orangey-red. In a fit of helpless optimism, I named them my Tequila Sunrise Socks. And they were pretty.
Until I hit the leg. Then the colors started doing odd things. They began pooling funny. And unattractively.
And I just let them, because, hell, I don't care anymore. Let them pool. As long as the stitch count is right and the pattern isn't trying to make me scream in frustration, I'm good. Of course, they couldn't pool consistently, oh no, that'd be too much to ask for. Now that I'm on the foot of the sock, they've settled into making stripes. STRIPES. Still, as long as the pattern is correct, I really don't care.
All of my knitting hates me. I have begun to accept this.
And following that line of thought, I'm going to share a conversation I just had with my darling fiance.
Me: I've finally found a pattern for that Araucania Ruca I've had for so long! It took me forever but I've finally found the perfect one, and now I want to cast on!
Him: Shouldn't you finish one of your other projects first?
Me: Yeah, maybe, but I want to make this.
Him: You know how it'll go. By the time you finall finish it you'll be so pissed at it you won't want to wear it.
Me: What?
Him: It happens every time. You'll screw up the pattern, swear a lot, throw it in the time-out corner for a month, rip and reknit a dozen times, and just get angry about the whole thing.
As much as I hate to admit, he really does have a point. Although he was wrong about one thing - it's a time-out basket not a time-out corner.
So, Ruca, you'll just have to wait your turn to drive me round the bend. That is, if there's anything left of my sanity by the time I finish this soul-sucking sanity-eating monster that's masquerading as a sweater...
