No, it's not a tragedy, it just feels that way. I am a conscientious knitter. I responsibly account for my mistakes by fixing them rather than continuing to forge ahead, sidestepping the problem and ending up with something I don't like. But I have to wonder, when a thing, (the circular needle cable that maliciously undoes itself in the middle of a crucial bit of the pattern, for example), enters that unfortunate trajectory, that imminent path to ruin that makes one, (me), have to take apart hours worth of work, hours spent meticulously counting stitches and marking rows, then I wonder, what in the name of all that is holy does it think it's up to? Why did that cable feel that it was necessary to part from its needle and wreak havoc? Were things going just a little too well? Was the project moving apace with the kind of seamless efficiency that one too infrequently enjoys nowadays? Or was it just the right moment to revel in a little schadenfreude at my expense, to pluck that ripening opportunity for fresh disaster?
Well, gremlin, I'll tell you this: you may have come undone, but I can put you back together again and spoil your scampish little game. You're laughing now but that won't last long. That tangle of tinked yarn? I can put that back together too and then we'll see who has the last laugh.
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