knitting neels

Why is it that after almost a week, I have only a sleeve to show? Normally I would blame the sleeve and everyone would understand. This time, however, I have only myself to blame.

This is a set-in sleeve and I knew I would have to work a sleeve cap. This didn’t stop me from very, very carefully picking up the stitches and very, very carefully working a straight, drop-shoulder sleeve. I was so careful that I got as far as the elbow before I realised (in my defence, I was still sick and it was only in the grim cold light of the next morning that I noticed my error).

I ripped it out and picked up my stitches again to work the short rows for the sleeve cap. It seems that every time I work short rows, I am doomed to work a short row heel… no matter what I am knitting. I ripped it out. Drew a little diagram of what I wanted to do. Picked up my stitches and got going. Halfway through the short rows, I panicked about my rate of short-rowing and adjusted it. Continued down the sleeve, only to panic again about my rate of decreasing and adjusted that too. Bound off the cuff and got Mum to try it on. It would have been perfect if I wanted a cardigan with puffed sleeves. Any other time of the year I would have been glad to find this out. Any other time of year I would have been sensible and stuck to my guns (in my defence… I have no defence for this one).

I ripped it out very, very quickly before I could think about cutting it open and adding a little strip maybe and taking in the gusset (see? I already had an insane plan gathering steam. This is why it is better to close your eyes, stifle the scream and rip as quickly as you can). Yesterday afternoon, I sat down, picked up the stitches, worked a normal sleeve cap, worked normal decreases, round and round and round and by the time the news was on, it was finished.

Behold the wonderous sleeve cap. It is, after all, the season for miracles… even slow and tortuous ones.

Now I just have to do the other one.