knitting with mohair, poor Lucy Snowe had to be ripped. Well, I would say ripped, but the word really doesn't encompass the horror and absolute screaming terror of frogging mohair. I swear I could hear the goat this stuff had been shorn from screaming with rage in the distance, cursing me, and making the yarn stick.The yarn, going slowly, so slowly, and then, at the end of a row, tangling into such an awful mess that cutting the fluff was the only recourse. I tell you, it was like trying to de-tangle a tomboy's nest of hair. If she were also Satan.
And then, inexplicably, the yarn broke! This wasn't when I was yanking at it, no, it's at the end of a relatively easy row! What the hell is this shit? The goat, it is laughing at me. IT MOCKS ME! IT MOCKS ME IN MY PAIN!
Wisp will be conquered. Wisp will even be conquered in mohair. Just not now.
In other news, the Flomit socks offered their own confusion the other day. I ended up ending the rounds at the wrong needle. How badly can things go lately? Really? I fixed it by knitting an extra bit of stockinette on the needle that was "behind," but it's annoying and shows how new I still am at this. If there's something I hate, it's to fail at something. *sigh* I think it's just that school's starting up soon, so my mind's been on that.
Very baa-aad luck with knitting lately. *dodges rotten tomatoes*
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