Am currently attempting to knit some anklets from a pattern that would make SO much more sense if the authors would just go ahead and admit in the instructions, “Oops-sorry. Here’s the part where we accidentally smoked some crack.”
Harnessing the healing power of snark
It all started off so beautifully, didn’t it?
I wasn’t even looking for you-I was completely happy with all the projects I had on my needles. But then there you were, just waiting for me in the pages of the new knitting book.
And isn’t that always the way of things, that when you stop looking, a new love finds you?
I was sucked in by your easy instructions-just a simple garter stitch for 72 rows. I could knit you and watch TV, or listen to the radio, and not even have to think at all.
I was seduced by the fuzzy softness of the mohair, and the deep, rich purple tones of the yarn.
We had one, glorious month together, and then it all went down in flames.
After all that time together, after all our hopes and dreams, after all those stitches, how could you betray me like that?
The itching, dude, the itching WILL NOT STOP!
How could you just stand by and let me work on you for an entire month with no problem at all, only to turn on me at the moment of completion and cause me to break out in a painful, itchy rash? (How can every single part of my body except my hands be allergic to mohair?!)
I’m sorry to have to say this, but I just don’t think we should see each other anymore. I really think it’s for the best.
Wondering where it all went wrong,