Frogged.

I ripped out an entire sock the other day. It had been finished, right down to grafting the toes, for a number of weeks and had been sitting there in a basket, just getting uglier and uglier. It was meant to be Christmas knitting, so I started my Barrow socks, deciding that once I finished one of those, I would go back and knit Ugly Sock, Park Deux. It was a good idea in theory, but every time I thought of casting on for that second sock, I would come up with a million other projects that I wanted to start when the Barrow was finished.

Knitter’s denial is a great thing. In hindsight, I have no idea why I even finished the Ugly Sock, but while I was knitting I somehow managed to continually convince myself that as fantastically ugly as it was, its intended recipient would think it was marvelous. They may well have, but I don’t think I could, in good conscience, give that sock to someone and expect them to go round with it on their foot.

And so I took the sock outside (because it was a gorgeous day and somehow the sun would make the frogging better) with a tapestry needle, sat down on my balcony, and started picking out the graft. That part was a little tedious, but the actual ripping? Great fun. I could actually feel the weight of the ugly sock lifting with every stitch that plinked out. It was glorious.

I’m still deciding whether ripping back projects gets easier the longer I knit (possibly because the knitting itself goes faster?) or if the sock was just so awful that frogging it somehow set things right with the world, but knitting life is better now. The yarn is being reknit as a pair of plain vanilla socks, for which it is much more well suited. (But I’m still thinking of way too many projects that I’d rather be knitting.)

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Trackback: Frogged. Again. « Ripped & Frogged

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