The tragic tale of a dumbass knitter:
Saturday evening, Kat patiently spent an hour and fifteen minutes coaching me through the Kitchener stitch so I could finish up Josh sock #1. I then spent the weekend doing a happy sock dance & gloating about my knitting prowess and the fact that I'd actually completed something (well, half of a pair, but still it's not a UFO on the sticks). Tonight, at work, I commented to Kat that it seemed a bit wide through the toes but I'd followed the instructions. Kat agreed that it seemed a bit wide and mentioned that usually the last rows are all decreases. Not my instructions, I say. They were for every other row. Then I pull out the book just to be sure and realize that, indeed, I had not misread the directions, but just somehow skipped over the single line that told me that once I'd gotten down to 46 stitches, I was to decrease every row until I got to 20 stitches. I was somewhat aghast at my stupidity and much sulking, rending of clothing, tearing of hair, & chocolate consumption ensued (there might have been a threat or six of suicide as well. I'm not sure, I was rather hysterical). After I'd sort of calmed down, I realized that undoing the toe would probably send me screaming over the edge, so I handed sock, a few #1s, and a darning needle to Kat, who kindly & patiently took a half hour or so to undo the f-ing Kitchener stitch she'd wasted over an hour of her Saturday night on. Tonight, I'm knitting the rest of the toe but have been firmly admonished by Kat that I really ought to wait until I go over her place Sunday night before I have another go at the Kitchener. I suspect she'd prefer to not have to calm me down and clean up another one of my messes. So, at this point, Kat's getting 2 bottles of wine (as opposed to my whining) and I'm thinking dinner, plus a supply of valium in anticipation of my next bout of stupidity.