In which the Bo' Ho does a dumb thing

I am an idiot. That much is clear. As much as I would like to think that I am clever and crafty and generally above making the stoopid mistakes I should have grown out of long ago in my knitterly career... well, no, not so much.

Previously I may have mentioned that I am knitting Forest Darkness. (Actually, if truth be told, I may have previously frothed at the mouth, compulsively yammered, and blathered to the point of mindlessness, but we need not speak of that.)

A quick recap: I knit the collar ribbing on Addi Turbo circs, US size 0. Switched over to US 2 for the color work. I tend to knit tight on color work, so the 2s, though bigger than the recommended needle size, were just ducky.

I also knit tightish when plonking away on the flat. Any time there is purling involved, I tighten up. Anyway. The 2s were not too hot, not too cold - they were juuuuust right.

So I come to the end of the flat parts and join 'em up. And knit away. Without changing needles. While knowing full well that, when freed from the tyranny of the purl stitch, I knit BIG.

Within slightly more than an inch it became apparent that I was not knitting a Bohus, I was knitting a very attractive, very well-designed... tent.

Deep breath. OK, at least I wasn't six inches into it. Only an inch.

Still. An inch of Bohus knitting is, well, a shitload of knitting. Let's do the math:

390 stitches per round x 10 rounds = 3900 stitches to rip out and reknit. I have knit entire afghans that probably contained fewer stitches than this one stinking inch of Bohus. (There was an unfortunate big-needle phase... I was young, I was foolish, what can I say... )

Being somewhat good at denial, avoidance, and procrastination, I decided to do nothing for a day. Somewhere in the back of my mind I really really believed that maybe if I just ignored the problem, the teeny tiny knitting fairies would come and fix it overnight.

They didn't, the rotten stinking little ingrates.

So I cursed and shook my fist and muttered terrible dark things. I had wild escapist fantasies in which blocking cured all. I thought about it obsessively, then I refused to think about it at all.

I remeasured four or five times. Oddly, nothing much changed. So last night, I grit my teeth, put on my big girl panties, and...

...ripped.

Spent a good hour counting and recounting the tiny picked-up stitches. Insecurities 'R' Us, ya know? Then knit back to more or less where I was before the Great Ripfest. So, basically, I spent all evening working and have absolutely nothing to show for it. Not even the wee inch or so of progress that is my norm for a Bohus session.

Tonight I'll get back to constructing a sweater instead of something you could hold a smallish wedding under, but in the meantime I do believe a bit of a pout is in order.