Just when I think I've got something down -- really down -- to the point where I can pick up needles, and just start knitting something hits me between the eyes. I am humbled. I get that nice ice pick feeling in the stomach. Ah yes. The feeling of . . . I've just made a mistake.
And this happened this very day. Why? Because when I picked up my DH's sock on Sunday, I didn't check my stitches. I didn't count them. I didn't make sure that for whatever incredibly bizarre reason I hadn't moved stitches around so my front and backs were uneven. I assumed all was well. And as we all know, assumptions are very, very, VERY bad to make.
So those 3 odd inches I did over the weekend and the other inch or so I've done since? Hell -- the whole blasted sock -- does it need to be rrriiipppped? Don't know. DH gets to try socks on today, though. Then I'll know.
And I'll sure as blazes remember to check what I'm doing before I pick up a project I'd last laid down several months ago. I hope.
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