Some proof: I started argyles. Fancy schmancy, I was smug, I thought my socks would be the best ever and my pal would want to be my lackey forever, because I was that good. (Humble? Yes thanks.)
I found mistakes. And more, and more and more and more. I ripped. I tinked. I cursed.
I finally gave up:
Big ridiculous mess.
I thought I'd do a cute little checkerboard pattern at the cuff. I knitted a turned-hem cuff. Hated it. Ripped. No picture.
I knitted ribbing, added a cute little checkerboard pattern. Loved it. Wouldn't fit over my foot. Hated that. Ripped. No picture.
I decided to knit some Gryffindor Mad Cows. Yeah, it's stripes, so what. I was giving up on the stranding and the intarsia because it's getting close to the deadline and I didn't want to let my pal down. Stripes is better than late socks.
I went to SnB. I knitted one row of gold before it occurred to me that I didn't look up the instructions for jogless-stripes-in-the-round. I sighed. I unknotted someone else's yarn for her (that should have given me good knitting karma, but NO.)
I picked up my sock to try to figure it out.
I discovered:
Bad, dark cell phone picture.
The effing Velcro on my effing Teva ate my effing yarn.
I hereby give up on that yarn. It is clearly cursed. It hates me. I have another skein of cranberry Lorna's (though it's suspect - it's from the same lot number) and some Ball and Skein in maple leaves, and by FSM, I will not touch that cursed yarn again. I'm considering burning it all, Addi included.
(I wonder if I would be permitted by whoever cursed that yarn to knit socks for my dad - it's in ASU colors [shudder] and maybe it just wants to be ASU socks. For the record, ASU sucks rocks, but I would knit socks for my dad to wear to their baseball games, because I am a good daughter and don't wanna waste my yarn, either, curse or no.)
