I cast on and knitted a few rows. I ripped them out, because something was not quite right. I re-knitted. And re-ripped. And admired my effort. And discovered that things were not very wrong, but not exactly right either. So I ripped. And reknit. Then I had a long thought about if someone else than me would really notice that the knitted edge still was not totally right. Then I decided that it wouldn´t matter if someone else noticed anything at all: I would know the edge was faulty and it would irritate me every time I used it. So I re-ripped. And re-knit.
Friday, 20 January 2012
Longing for Spring
I cast on and knitted a few rows. I ripped them out, because something was not quite right. I re-knitted. And re-ripped. And admired my effort. And discovered that things were not very wrong, but not exactly right either. So I ripped. And reknit. Then I had a long thought about if someone else than me would really notice that the knitted edge still was not totally right. Then I decided that it wouldn´t matter if someone else noticed anything at all: I would know the edge was faulty and it would irritate me every time I used it. So I re-ripped. And re-knit.
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