I knit a few rows on my Tina shawl while dinner was simmering. It must have gotten me in a lace-going mode. That's the only excuse I can think of. It's a lousy one, but bear with me, here.
After my son was in bed and his sister reading quietly in her room, I picked up the two shoulder saddles for my Celtic Dreams sweater and began to attach them. I didn't like the way my cast-on for the neck looked. I ripped back and did it again. Twice. I decided I could live with it, since I'd be picking it all up to knit a rolled neck later on. My shoulders were joined and I had the right number of stitches. I began the first row of the pattern and knit happily along
(get this)
as if it were STOCKINETTE STITCH
and then started back with the charts for Row 2, which should already have been knit instead of a whole blasted purl row.
You'd think I'd have noticed that right away, wouldn't you. Nooooooooo, not me. I knit eight more rows in the exact same way before I realized that things looked way too funky to be right. Sure, I'm an experienced knitter. I've been knitting since I was seven or eight. And hosing things up regularly.
I've ripped back. And it's definitely time for bed. But I think I'll just knit a couple of rows and contemplate the nature of my knitting, see if doing it right gives me any satisfaction at all. No pictures of my poor, overworked yarn tonight. If I keep this up, it will be dry felted before the sweater is finished.
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