It’s not her fault at all this time. The blame is all on me. I smashed my finger between a tree limb and a fence rail on Sunday at work. It hurts, it is swollen and purple, and it is the finger I support my left needle with. I will spare you the image of my purple balloon finger, suffice it to say I was hoping it would feel better by now, but no such luck. I can not support my needle and the several hundred stitches on it without saying lots of bad words!
My solution? So I don’t go crazy not knitting at all? Another pair of monkey socks. I find I can hold my needle almost normally with just a few stitches on it, so I plowed on, with a minimum of cursing and grumbling.
Just look at that laddering. Impressive, to say the least. I decided I can live with it. I just couldn’t hold that needle tightly enough Sunday night to get the ladder to disappear. There is slow improvement in the finger; it no longer hurts when a breeze passes over it, but it’s still pretty swollen, and I’m pretty sure I’ll lose the nail eventually. That prospect totally grosses me out! But I can knit, albeit a little loosely, which is just fine for socks for me, that no one sees any way.
Of course, Luna, the new puppy is worse than a cat with a ball of wool. This is what I found the other day when I finished making dinner.
Lovely mess. This has happened at least three times this week. My husband says to put my knitting where she can’t get it. I say she shouldn’t touch it and she will learn….eventually! She is quickly learning the word NO, and she hasn’t actually damaged the yarn or needles.
I just can’t stay mad at that face for very long.