When the newest Knitty was released, I immediately jumped at the beautiful Laminaria. I had the yarn! I had the needles! I had the will!
I do not have the brainpower.
I'm sure some of you are shaking your heads: "But Bee! You're an intelligent, witty young woman!"
I thank you for your faith in me, but it is not deserved.
To date, I have frogged the various sections of this shawl a record 17 times. I'm not counting all the times in which I tinked back twenty stitches here and there -- I'm just counting all the times I had to go back one or more rows. I frogged the last repeat of the Blossom Chart six times. SIX TIMES. There was the fun moment during the third or fourth frogging session (I can't remember exactly, I've repressed many of these memories) when I realized that my lifeline had somehow slipped out of the first thirty stitches of my row. Of course, I realised this as I am frogging back down to the lifeline. Frogging an extra four rows was a delight. I had to lay facedown on the floor, trying to remember how to breathe, for several minutes, before I was steady enough to sit up again.
I finally made it through the Blossom Chart, and started the edging yesterday. All went well till I reached the first of the double yarn-over rows. I was off by a few stitches, but I counted back, found my mistake, wrote a note on my pattern, and decided to leave it till this morning to fix. I figured I would just unravel back to my lifeline and start that part of the chart over.
I got to work this morning, sat down at my desk, and pulled out my Lam to frog. I happily grabbed my lifeline -- and pulled it out.
I sat there for about ten seconds, blinking at the lifeline, with the slow realisation dawning upon me. I now had to tink back three rows. In lace. In alpaca. In tears.
It's only 9:30am, but I'm going to go get a milkshake. It's the least I can do for my broken heart. Hopefully, I haven't become stupid enough that I have to be reminded to swallow.
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