You know when you work on something, plan it for a long time, put a lot of thought into it, into it's execution and then . . . . you just end up hating the darn thing like it's a living thing capable of malice?
Yeah; I'm there. So there.
I. Hate. This. Sweater.
Maybe I hate it because it should be so lovable. It's so close to being nice! It's soft and cozy and really makes a wonderful fabric, the pattern I've adapted is coming out super; but still I just feel like the color is a total bloomer. I tried hard to take a plunge and work off my comfort-palette and I feel like Amy Rose has slapped me across the face.
Sigh.
I'm going to finish her, though (ripping out mohair is a fate worse than, well, lots of things are actually far worse, but I just don't want to do it, plus since I like the
sweater itself, there's no point in my recycling the yarn). Heck, I've made it to the sleeves, that should take only a couple days to finish.
Then I'm going to do something
COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.
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Yup. That kind of completely different.
Pfffffptttthhhh!
Ravelry should start an adoption agency for
ughs. (If you've never taken a spin through the
ughs on
Ravelry, you should - it's better than booze, chocolate, coffee, and flowers all rolled into one - though not better than spending 2 seconds with my spouse, but he's mine so put it out of your mind.)