A little karmic smack in the ass

I am reluctant about saying what I am about to type. Ya know, where things are sorta permanent (at least until I delete them, if I choose to).

(deep breath) OK, here goes.

I'm tired of knitting socks.

Wait for it... yup, the earth still revolves around the sun. Whew! I was worried for a minute.

I'm pretty sure I'm not tired of knitting socks forever. I'm just tired of socks after knitting nothing but socks for about two months straight.

All I'm saying is that perhaps I need a wee break.

So, on Tuesday, for knit night, I prepared. I grabbed the Storm Water Shawl and threw it into my bag (because, you know, tiny string with slightly bigger sticks will solve all my problems).

And, as I suspected, I became frustrated with the current sock and shoved it aside.

Storm Water was ready and waiting for me.

Gleefully, I got myself oriented for the next row. It was absolutely dreamy, the smooth sea-silk running trough my fingers, the wondrous parallelograms being created by the judicous placement of yarn-overs, k2tog's and ssk's.

In fact, it was so wonderful that I knit for an hour and a half at work the following day. And on the bus to my lecture. And during my lecture.

Where, fifteen minutes before we were dismissed, I noticed that the pattern repeat I thought I had completed at knit night was missing four crucial rows.

I frogged back to where I had started on Tuesday and managed to get the stitches back on the needles in time to run for the bus.

Yup, serves me right, for thinking I could switch it up without actually working at it.