In class last week: I was sitting next to another knitter who recognized the Odessa hat I was knitting. Yay. We knitted all during class and the teacher didn’t seem to mind. VICTORY.
Also last week: my boyfriend has really taken a shine to a cat-and-crossbones pattern for a scarf for a friend, a birthday present started in July and by now already over a month overdue.
“Y’know,” I said, “I came up with that pattern for you.”
“Really?” He sounded touched.
“Yup. I originally drew it with big X’s for eyes because I wanted to make you a dead cat scarf, since you can’t stand cats,” I said. (This is what romance is like around our place.) “But you don’t wear hats and you already told me not to make you more gloves or scarves because you lose them.”
“Yeah. But … maybe a sweater?”
This is heavy. My boyfriend is crazy picky about his clothes. He says it’s because he dated a fashion designer a few years ago, but I think he’d dress this way no matter what. His clothes are fitted incredibly well — as in, shirts so skinny you can see the outline of his body jewelry through them and pants so tight you can tell which way he’s tucking — and he doesn’t have a lot of them, since not too many clothes pass muster with him. If he wants me to knit him a sweater, that means my knitwear isn’t just a cute hobby — it’s fashion.
He hasn’t forgotten, either. I showed him some glow-in-the-dark yarn I got on eBay (Dude! Glow in the dark! Never outgrew it!) and after exclaiming over it, he said “Could you use this for my sweater?” How can I say no?
So is this, like, the opposite of the boyfriend sweater curse? Either way, we wear the same size sweaters, so if anything goes sour, at least I’ll be up by one seriously cool pullover.