Sock Love/Hate

I started a new class at the yarn shop three weeks ago. I was eager, and happy, and all fluffy around the edges to work on something other than a scarf. So, I pick out my yarn, a lovely Neapolitan ice cream colored sock yarn that I had been eyeing since I started working at the store. One ball is enough to make two socks.

Week 1- The first class goes swimmingly. I am in love with socks. Socks are my friend. Socks are the new scarf. Everyone gets socks for Christmas!

Week 2- Socks are still pretty rockin’. Having a bit of trouble. But hey, it’s my first sock, so a little trouble is ok. I’ll be fine once I figure out what I am doing. Tra-la-la.

Week 3- I HATE socks. Socks have turned against me, I am boycotting the sock. Stupid sock. Who does it think it is? It’s not the new scarf, it doesn’t even compare to the scarf. Scarves are my friend. Socks just sit there and jeer at me, scorning my non-sock making abilities. I thought maybe I could channel my great-grandmother, who rumor has it could make a set of argyle socks in a day! Argyle! No such luck. Instead, my sock is just sitting here at my desk looking oh so cute, but unfinished, and I have ripped out half of it twice now because I can NOT figure out what I am doing wrong. Luckily, I have class tonight. We are supposed to have finished the body of the foot, and get to the toe tonight, but I think I will be sitting in the dark corner of class frantically ripping out again to see if maybe the third time is the charm.