This bag is where my projects go when they have pissed me off.
In the bag, which was given to me by the hospital where I had the Boy, are two projects. One is a shirt that I was sewing and that I'm still not ready to talk about. The other is the first sweater I ever started.
Note my used of the word "started." Here is my total work, which would be a front, a back and a sleeve. I got this far before realizing that it was not the right sweater for me. It was a basic V-necked box, which would only serve to make me appear to resemble a box, a lumpy green one at that.
In the bag it went. Until last week, when I realized that I could simply use the yarn for something else and that enough time had passed that I could rip without too much angst.
And so I did. Which hurt a little tiny bit because I remembered how long it took me to do all of that knitting and how quickly it all came out again. While my knitting speed has seriously improved, that front, back and sleeve seemed like a mountain of stitches.
The requisite yarn bath and ...
Now it is dry and sitting in the yarn closet waiting for me to tackle my most hated project ever, which is the ball winding. Urg. Ball winding.
Ultimately, I think the yarn is destined for a big shawl because I am a delicate flower and my home office is very, very cold, especially when I am sitting in front of a computer for hours on end. I don't want a sweater, just something schamatte-like that I can fling over my shoulders. I also suspect that this yarn will pill like a pop star if it has to deal with anything resembling the friction of a seam. And I have a yen to knit a big, dumb, simple triangle and this yarn is too bulky for any real lacey stuff. Ergo, shawl.
On the sickness front, the Boy is better and currently watching his beloved Blue's Clues and dancing. I, however, am starting to feel a touch feverish. I am knocking back the Spice Tea, with its elixir-like Tang base, in the hopes that I can avoid the ick. Wish me luck.