As you may have noticed, I tend to knit for others most of the time. There are many reasons for this: I love giving gifts, I love spending my time making something for someone I love, I struggle at times with a feeling of not deserving such lovely things as I see coming off the needles out there. This, though, is the main reason - I am cursed. Whenever I take it upon myself to knit something for me and only me, something goes terribly wrong. I lose the last ball of wool in that dye lot. My gauge goes screwy, and even with the benefit of swatching, the finished item is too big or too small. I make some dumb mistake, and don't notice it until far to late to fix it.
Knitting the T-Twist has been much the same. A simple pattern, I somehow did a yarn-over in the middle of the body, creating a gaping hole, and adding a stitch, guaranteed to throw off the decreases and shaping. I bit the bullet, ripped it back, and started again. This was not enough, however. Oh, no, there must be more. I finished the T-Twist. I followed the instructions exactly. It was perfect. Until the moment when instructed to try on the sweater before binding off. I had a brilliant idea. "I know," I said to myself, "I'll use my Denise needles, extend the cable, and it will be easy as pie!" Self, you should know better. Just as I pulled the ill fated sweater over my head, the cable join popped. I could feel stitches unraveling, and was helpless to stop it! I looked over my shoulder. There - about 30 stitches running down the back, including one of the raglan decreases.
I am fed up. I am ready to chuck the sweater in the garbage. I am so close to finishing it, and so frustrated I could cry. I tried to save it, really I did. My knitting time these days is so rare and precious, I didn't want to waste a moment. I sat into the wee hours, carefully hooking up stitches, attempting to follow the decreases, and save the damn thing.
I really don't know where to go from here. I tell myself, in my calm moments, that I can just rip the yoke back to where I attached the sleeves, and re-knit from there. Not such a big deal, really. A decrease of 12 stitches on every other round makes it go quite quickly, I could rip and re-knit in no time. But I don't want to. I'm sick of the dumb thing, and I don't ever want to see it again. I want to frog and put the whole thing out of my memory. In the words of the great Harlot, I've had my ass kicked by my knitting.