Knitting is usually relaxing. I enjoy the feel of the yarn running through my fingers as I knit. The clicking sound of my needles is comforting and almost musical. The colors of most of the yarns I choose please me as well. The whole action of knitting, the process, is something I’m addicted to.
See this lovely little swatch of knitting? It’s so innocent as it sits waiting for me to pick it up and continue the click-clack of the needles, the rhythm of knit stitches humming along.
Just look at it. Quiet. Waiting. Pretty yarn.
Don’t be fooled, it’s a monster laying in wait.
I have knit this piece, and ripped it out to that little hole more times in the last day than I can remember. It makes me want to poke my eyes out. It is by no means a simple little knit, as advertised. No way, no how.
It’s a beast.
Just knit stitch in a pinwheel pattern they say, change colors every ten rows as you increase, then do a provisional cast on for the sleeves…
Stop the music! Their instructions for this cast on is so weird I abandoned it and searched the internet for something usable, which I found thank you very much. Still, I ripped and re-knit, finding my count off, the yarn overs unknit, dropped, you name it. Rip again. It’s my newest excuse not to paint, since I have to get this to a place where I can relax a bit.
Resistance, much?
