It Couldn't Be Me

I had expected to be a happy woman this morning. Four out of five pieces of the Doctor's Bag are done, waiting for blocking and assembly. Note that "four out of five."

















This is five. It's supposed to be the base. It's a mess.
















I have been working on this for days now. This is the piece that I knit the wrong eight rows into. Rip. Then I missed a knit stitch without noticing, added one in later (also without noticing), finished the row and went on for another eight rows or so. You'd be surprised what that did to the pattern. Rip. Next time I picked it up, I purled two rows and went on for another 6. Say it with me now: Rip. It's downright Sisyphean. And, no. I don't want to think about what this says about my powers of observation.

I, however, refuse to be bested by my knitting. I'm planning the sneak attack now. I'll go out and buy the fabric for the lining and the purse handles and hardware and such. Then I will set it all out for the knitting to see. The completed pieces will gang up on the base for me and when I next pick it up it will behave beautifully.

I'm sure none of this is happening because I know I'm clueless about assembly and am, in point of fact, sabotaging myself.

P.S. Vote Tomorrow. No excuses. You can knit while you wait your turn.