An Under the Chair Moment...

When I was in university, my room mate Kelley and I had this little in joke, or saying, between the two of us. It was in reference to getting really stressed out and overwhelmed and it was during those times that we just felt like crawling under a chair and never coming out. I have photographic evidence of Kelley experiencing such a moment, in very literal terms (which is even funnier, to me, cuz she was an English major...get it? Literal? Ah yes).
In any case, I am having an under the chair moment and I thought I would share it with you all. Both of you.

Back in September, when my dear husband left me all alone in the wilds along the St. Clair river, I went shopping at Value Village where I beheld a most spectacular sight. There, wrapped in a common plastic bag, for a mere tuppence if you will, untold yards of some unknown, but most definitely natural fibre in the most beautiful shade of red. It was warm and soft and fuzzy, and for five bucks there was a lot of it. Lace weight even. I could really make something cool I thought.

And so I paid the goodly gentleman in his smock and off I went with my lovely little find in my grubby little hands. I let it sit and stew and decide what it was that it wanted to be.

Around this time I was perusing a book concerning knitted lace. I had yet to attempt knitting lace, but felt the time was nigh. So, I done some figgurin' and settled upon a big scarf, long and wide. The kind of scarf that would take me six months to knit. At the end of those six months, while I knit and pined for my dear cadet hubby, I would proudly wear it on the day of his graduation.

Well folks, I finished that damn scarf 'round about a week ago. Tonight, after a field trip to the knitty shop to pick up the appropriate needles for finishing the edges, (and some Noro Kuryeon and some more needles and some sock yarn and enough cheap acrylic to knit a small horse) I picked up 300 itty-bitty stitches along the one edge. I knit three rows of garter stitch. I cast off. Then I picked up 300 itty-bitty stitches along the other edge. I knit three rows of garter stitch. I cast off. I watched an episode of CSI:NY that I'd already seen. I watched a documentary about a UFO case in Nova Scotia (the place just gets cooler!) in the sixties. I watched figure skating. Finally, at ten o'clock this evening, I bound off the very last stitch. Then I took the one edges and stretched it to see if I could relax the kink and tightness of the bind off edge. It was then that the knitty gods laughed mightily and smote me thusly...
Picture, if you will, in your minds ear that horrible ripping sound that a thread or yarn makes when it breaks. Sometimes it's a satisfying sound if busting open a seam is what you are trying to accomplish. That was not my aim.

I'll update you on my progress once I come out from under the chair.