Fast forward to a couple weeks ago. Two of Scott's friends are having babies this year, and I instantly thought of the sweater. It only needs one sleeve done, so it should be simple, right? Wrong. I looked at the pattern, forgetting the needle size problem and saw that the sweater had been knit on #7 needles. Size 7 needles in hand, I get started. A couple inches into it, the discrepancy becomes clear. At this point I chastize myself for not being very observant, and for having a really crappy memory, and for not making notes about this sort of thing. The sleeve gets ripped, and I figure I must have accidentally used #6 needles. Again, I knit the sleeve. This time, I knit nearly to the end before I see that the sleeve STILL does not match the other, smaller, sleeve. Now I hate myself and the sweater. This stupid sleeve has been knit three times and I wish it would die in a fire.
Unfortunately, there is just something in my brain that won't let me destroy the thing no matter how mad I am at it. It's too close to being finished, and the idea of being defeated by a baby cardigan really sticks in my craw. So, it is back in the bag (with a note to use #5 needles next time), and I have until June to let the hate subside and finish it.
On a happier note, Scott's scarf is done:
And I've got the cuffs of both Shalimar socks done:
I've made lists of all my projects and goals, and so far so good. Maybe I'll make it to Sheep & Wool after all!
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