Things were looking up. Yes, it was taking a while, but I was positive a scarf was in progress. I used the smaller knitting needles, which didn’t feel right to me. I think I prefer the larger ones. I’m not sure why, but it’s probably similar to coloring with a giant crayon: you’re way less likely to break it than its dainty counterpart.
I may have added a few stitches. I may have dropped a few. I tried to be careful.
Perhaps I put it down for too long because the next thing I knew, two stitches had come off the last row. There’s probably a simple, intuitive way to fix it. An engineer would be able to figure it out. Or someone with mathematical skills.
Not me. I fucked that scarf up in a hurry and, just as quickly, I destroyed it.
I’ll admit the destruction process wasn’t entirely dissatisfying. In the end, I had this: A nice, neat ball of yarn. Just like when I started it a week and a half ago, only smaller because I ripped it a few times and threw a big wad of yarn in the garbage.
I’m over it. In fact, I’m glad. A fresh start is just what I need this Monday morning. And more coffee.