I had a different post all worked up last night. It was witty and entertaining and full of self-indulgence. But then something happened.
I've reached my least favorite part of knitting. That part where nothing is quite right and all the projects are too close to completion to be fun for take-along or end of the day exhaustion. I was so proud of myself. The Holla Back Tank is ready for seeming, the Byzantine Cowl just needs grafting, and I am all set to cast on socks as soon as Sock the Vote officially begins. Because I was super awesome and actually getting things done I decided to treat myself with a new shawl. At ten last night I pulled out my swift, some yarn, and that is when things went horribly wrong.
The sun has yet to come up, so there is still the chance that I am being haunted by bad yarn karma. This is this morning, after I spent an hour last night and finally gave up, ranted about the most tangled skein of yarn ever, and "what kind of sadist hides the end like that". Chris and Cogsworth just stared in fear of the yarn monster growing on the table. I stormed off to bed, but sadly when I awoke this morning it is still there.
I am thinking of leaving it there for a few days to think about what it has done.
For less distressing knitting in your day, check out the posts over at Tami's Amis.