You know your knitting isn’t going well when, tired of being frogged and carried around aimlessly for weeks, even your sock yarn needs caffeine. So badly, in fact, that it takes advantage of a sudden lurch in the car, and leaps rebelliously into a cup of half-drunk coffee and happily sits there, soaking it in.
Worst part was I had to let it sit there for miles until I reached my destination. I couldn’t bring myself to knit from it any more even though there was a fair bit between the ball and the needles. Instead I clutched the half-done sock in fear that it would jump into the cup too, and took a photograph of the soaking ball instead. Later I washed and squeezed it out, but that skein, and any sock that eventually comes of it, is always going to stink of coffee.
I pretended to be all upset about it, and cheered myself up by buying this cool implement, which I have long coveted. The wait for it to arrive is already killing me.