By the skin of my teeth. 19" at the spine before blocking, and almost all of a 437-yard skein of undyed cashmere used up.
I keep on doing this thing where I freak out about yardage for the last quarter of an entire project. I go back and forth - will I have enough? Will I run out, bloody and tearful, halfway through the bind off? And unfortunately, the only way to find out is to knit along and hope that everything works out.
Usually this does not happen in any sort of merry fashion. Usually there is wincing and gnashing of teeth and obsessively checking how much yarn I have left until the bitter end.
About halfway through the last repeat of this Prairie Rose, I realized that my yardage was looking a little skimpy. And then the dance started: I will have enough! and then, five minutes later, I will not have enough and I should give up and give the damn thing to the rat and find a new, more relaxing hobby, like maybe ice climbing or bear wrestling.
Because I am a mature and well-adjusted person, I threw it on the couch for a day because I was mad at it. Two nights ago I was feeling optimistic, so I did a few rows and realized that I would almost surely be okay for yardage. From then on, I decided that it would definitely work.
Apparently my blind faith paid off, but still - yikes. I cast off in the car yesterday morning, and what was left was this tiny wisp, perhaps 5 yards - a little cocoon of yarn.
And thank goodness for that, because I don't even want to think about the alternative.