I started these replacements for my favorite pair of socks back in December as my Christmas vacation knitting. I finished the first sock really quickly, and blew past Second Sock Syndrome by casting on so I could knit them working the booth at Madrona. (I was pretty chuffed with myself at this point, which should have been a sign that something was about to go terribly, terribly wrong.) Of course, in a moment of clarity I decided that I was too hardcore for the pattern, which meant I didn't need to bring the first sock or my copy of Favorite Socks with me to Madrona after all.
Hah! Hah! How blithely and adroitly I totally screwed myself.
I knitted merrily away on them for two full days, turning a heel and picking up stitches with breaks to sell Socks That Rock and Pom Pom Quarterlies to happy knitters. By the end of the weekend, I was about to start the toe shaping when I looked at the sock and realized that I had left out 3 whole rounds of the pattern - and the mistake was barely an inch into the cuff. My bombastic self-confidence withered, I put them away: I could bear neither the idea of ripping back an entire perfectly good sock, nor the thought of leaving the damn mistake in.
And then there was this really fun period of a month or two when I misplaced the finished first sock. (I took that as a sign from the universe that I should focus on other, more important things, like ballgown.)
Then the other day, I was tidying up in my studio, and had a sudden tingly feeling, like: my sock is near. It's near, I can feel it... and I think I need to apologize.
So with a deep breath and a small glass of wine, I ripped out eight or nine tragically lovely inches of sock, steamed the crap out of the noodly yarn, and started over.
And wouldn't you know - I think we might be friends again.