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Sticking to it

Last night, I was packing my bag for work.  Laptop, book, handbag, etc.  Of course, I normally carry a knitting project around with me.  So I went to my in-box and decided they were all too big to haul about, then fetched a nice ball of sock yarn and a set of DPNs from the stash cupboard and popped those in.  This morning, I decided against it.  I grabbed the biggest, bulkiest project that needs my attention right now and chucked it in the bag.  Muh-muh-muh-my Corona!

I am as astonished as you are, but I’m also terribly, terribly proud of myself.  Put away the tantalising new sock project, picked up the millstone.  Acutally, I shouldn’t be so hard on Corona. The only reason it’s a pain in the butt to carry around is because I’m alternating balls each row, to make up for different dyelots.  This is exacerbated by the fact that by ‘balls’ I mean ‘200g behemoths from Bendigo Woollen Mills’. So on one hand, I’ll probably not have to weave in an end for the entire sweater.  On the other hand, swapping balls of yarn at the beginning of every row (well, round) is a huge pain in the arse. The yarns get all twisty and tanagled, and, like I said, it’s a bugger to haul about.

Still, I’m pretty sure it’s worth it.  I think if I had thrown caution to the wind and done each sleeve with a ball from the different dyelots, it would be spectacularly obvious when I had finished the sweater.  Or maybe after the first wash — who knows?  That’s one of the annoying things about anticipatory and preventative measures: if they work right, you won’t be able to tell anything worked at all.  I may never know if swapping yarns every round is worth it, because I’m going to do it for the rest of the sweater: if it turns out to have been a good idea, I won’t be able to tell.  There won’t be any variation in the colours. If it was a waste of time, I won’t be able to tell, for the same reason.

That’s very zen, isn’t it? I hope it is. If it’s zen, I’m not just a twit musing over what colour her sleeves will be.

From the more obvious end of the spectrum: I have finished repairing the sleeves on Sahara — huzzah!  Now I have a brand-new, ready-to-wear top, just waiting for that first cold day of winter. Yes!  And I finished the body of M’s black sweater.  Huzzah again!  All it lacks are sleeves and a neckline, and he’s got himself a brand-new, ready-to-wear sweater, just waiting for that first cold day of winter!  I feel incredibly satisfied, which is probably where I found the strength to haul out Corona and her big balls.

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