Saturday saw me without sock needles to be able to move on from the dang-blasted, con-sarned toe and move on up the foot. I lost two nails that day (both of which were coming along very nicely, I might add) because of the twitchiness that resulted.
Sunday though? Sunday was a whole other game. TOH had gone to his cousin's place for a little musical interlude and pre-birthdaying celebrations (it's next week, I'm going to cook; please don't pre-warn the fire department, I'll call if the flames leave the windows), so I took advantage and threw on some cinematic gems and knit. And knit. And knit some more. By the time he got back, I'd gone from a toe and two rows, to two inches from the end of the foot. Lightning.
Today, I was able to finish those two inches at work and get halfway through the heel (not the easiest task given what I do for work). I may.... no, not may. I'm tempting fate. I'm spitting into the eyes of the Gods. I'm going to poke the Knitting Fates, because I can (and because they've already d*mned my gauge on this sock: 9 sts to the inch, rat b*st*rds).
I will have this pair done before this weekend.
There.
I did it.
I said the words.
Let the hail storm fly.
P.S. The Knitting Broads at work are almost completely converted. K. cast on for her sock after lunch, and N. has decided to try crocheting one because her and knitting needles is a recipe for disaster (but she's a wizard with a hook)
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