I've been patient.
I really have. I picked your pattern up off Knitty, and then it sat in my pattern archives. I wanted the time to be right for you and I. I wanted us to have time for ourselves, to really get to know one another. You were the first. I've knit shawls, and socks and hats and mittens and all manner of things for wee small babes and children. But never, never have I knit a cardigan for me. And I picked wool (not orange), and I loved you.
And oh Samus, it was special. I started your lovely cable, and it was so wonderful. I knit and knit on this cable, and then I realized 2 repeats in that I had mis-crossed a cable, and well, there's no going back from that, and I wanted this relationship to stay pure, so I ripped back and started over. And then we watched the second James Bond, and I got a bit distracted, so I started the cable over a second time. And I will admit, I was perhaps a bit tetchy.
And there were some challenges in the cable, including a bit where I randomly repeated rows 13-26 at row 34. No idea what happened there, but I decided that you were like me, slightly flawed. And then the first stirring of dissent in Cardigan land, when I realized that if I completed the number of pattern repeats specified on the cable pattern, you would go around an elephant. We did really stinking hard knitting math. Indeed the math was so hard we did it 3 times, scratching our head (skein) and thinking that couldn’t be right.
Then when we started picking up the stitches, and lo, the math was wrong. Very wrong. But, we ignored the wrongness of it all, and we held on for another 4 inches. Alas, 4 inches and 15,000 stitches did not fix the inherent wrongness of the math, and together, you and I unraveled, slowly, spinning around on my ball winder, weeping silently. And then we re-did the math, and wound up with another number. With the promises of a new beginning in our ears, we started again. And this time, we decided, you and I, that you would be happy and fulfilled with waist shaping. And lo, we researched and we did the waist shaping. And lo, the math was wrong a second time.
And so we re-did it a 3 time. Perhaps at the 3rd time there were harsh words. Perhaps I suggested you weren’t pulling your weight in this relationship, and maybe I did call you stupider than a barn yard full of turkeys, and yes I’ll confess, I even threw you on to the couch and stomped off. And when I came back and the cat was sleeping on you, I threw a look and possibly I said “serves you right”.
But, dear Samus, all relationships take patience. And I picked you up and lint rollered you off, and ripped back for the 3rd time. And lo, this time the math was right. And I started knitting. And truly, around about 10 inches, I started getting nervous, looking at the wool hanging off my needles, and the skeins left in the cupboard, and lo, I ordered more.
And the wool, it arrived with my knitpicks order, and oh, all right, it looked a bit funny. When I held it up to you, the wool on the new skein didn’t feel as soft and it had more twist, and maybe the colour was a bit off, but really, who can tell that, it’s a heathered wool. I decided that you were a resilient sweater Samus, and you could take this change.
And last night, I finished your left front. What, with the random math to make the decreases work at my gauge. And you looked good. I put you down last night, and I caressed you, and I pictured you and I watching the Sea Lions and eating crab in SFO. I pictured you meeting Martha in Vegas. I was excited. Things were on a new track for you and I. This was the start of a beautiful thing, Samus.
And then today, still in this wonderful feeling of euphoria, I pulled you out. And that extra wool, that extra wool that was Telemark and not Wool of the Andes? It’s nowhere near the same colour. Not at all.
And in the harsh light of this morning, this doesn’t work. In the harsh light of this morning, I am going to rip out 15 inches of work, and I’m going to have buy new wool, and dear Samus,
I have to tell you,
You’re moving into the closet for a bit.
Hey Teach is calling my name.
It's not me, it's you.