I know when I’m beat.

You know when you studiously keep knitting on a project, even though your deep misgivings about how much you adjusted for gauge only get stronger with every row?

And you know how you keep powering through, convincing yourself that sure, you’ll wear a rasta-baggy hat even though you hate that style and don’t own a single beret?

Nothing, but nothing, will dissolve those thin excuses quite knitting pure worsted-weight wool on a 85ºF and sunny day in a converted warehouse office with no air conditioning. Eight rows into the crown decreases, I finally saw the light.

I look forward to revisiting this pattern in the exact same yarn, with a less sweltering environment and a saner number of stitches.