Since the Rugby World Cup 2015 started, I've been making myself do some knitting while I watch grown men bash into each other whilst trying to get an oddly shaped ball over a white line. I picked up a sock of my own unvention, which I started earlier in the year. Things have been going very S L O W L Y with it since the heel flap. I love the look of the sock, but something about knitting it is really annoying me.
Last night, I sat down with my husband for an hour or two and we caught up on
I put the sock aside, happy and relieved. I was looking forward to the Kitchener stitching to come, and went to bed.
This morning, on my way to the shower, I noticed a tangle of yarn on the carpet. It was a bit like - oh, b*gger, it was the sock yarn. All 4 DPNs were scattered to the wind, and the yarn tangled and stretched from one side of the room to the other.
I found the needles. I picked up the yarn, and the sock, and I stuffed it in my bag. I didnt inspect the damage - my first glance was enough to confirm some serious damage to the toe, and quite a lot of squiggly frogged yarn.
I glowered at the culprit.
He gave me his winningest smile.
Reader, I forgave him everything.