I have been knitting for years. I have tackled everything from lace shawls to cabled items to color-work to socks. I happily tackle new techniques and usually do very well at it. But sometimes, even the simplest things bring me to my knees.
I have been working on the Central Park Hoodie for ages now. I blew through the back and fronts with no problem at all, all three pieces turned out gorgeous. But the sleeves… I have knit and frogged, knit and frogged, knit and frogged TWENTY FIVE MILLION TIMES. Because even though I’m a fully-functioning adult and, I like to think, a relatively clever knitter, I’m apparently unable to count to 8 and differentiate between right and left at the same time. So what were supposed to be simple but beautiful cables marching up the sleeves of my sweater, turned into a clump of mis-crossed nonsense that looks like I might possibly have had a seizure while knitting. So I spent 10 minutes frogging half the sleeves, blurting out obscenities with each row ripped out. “*Tug* goddamit. *Tug* Shit! *Tug* SHITDAMNSHIT!” (This is why I don’t go to knit nights in public, they tend to frown on sailor language). So the offending sweater has been stuffed into the closet, because who in their right mind works on a woolen sweater in this kind of heat anyway? I haven’t been defeated by a non-sentient pile of wool, I’m just being practical. Yeah, that’s it. Practical.
You may be cocky now, CPH, but you will get yours. I will make you my bitch.
(This is the only picture I have right now, which is the beginning of the back of the sweater. I need to get some updated shots to keep track.)