I’m working on another Dead Kitty scarf from my chart, and this time I’m actually logging what I do so I can release a full-fledged pattern for it. Only thing is, it’s a scarf, so it’s about a million miles long. And it’s a double-knit scarf, so it has twice as many stitches as a regular scarf, making it essentially two million miles long. Since I’m not too swift at following charts, or, apparently, at counting, I’m only halfway through the first repeat and I’ve already started over once and backtracked three times.
I hate scarves. I cast on for them all excited, and by the time I’m a foot into one, I’ve solved whatever was interesting about knitting it and I’m ready to do the next thing. Except I can’t, because there are nine million more miles to go. I slog through it, dragging it everywhere with me in hopes that I’ll maybe make a tiny advance on an unremitting army of yet-unmade stitches, and have to ban all non-scarf-related projects to keep me focused.
It’s all I can do not to hurl the damn thing off the roof. Buying yarn for a scarf is like paying to be tortured in the slowest, most painful way possible, and every time I bind off a scarf and weave in the ends, I have to hide it in a bag until I can give it away, because just catching a glimpse of it makes me angry.
So last night at the stitch ‘n’ bitch, I announced that the scarf I was working on was going to be my last damn scarf. And then I remembered … oh. I still have to make my mod-inspired college scarf, reverse-engineered from a vintage scarf I own. And I’m sure somewhere down the line I’ll come up with more scarves, and I still have to replace the one from my boyfriend that I lost in Pittsburgh.
So this is my last gift scarf, and then I’ll make the replacement scarf, and from then on I will never, ever, ever make another scarf from a pattern.