First up, my lovelies, let me show off some socks I made for my girlfriend for Christmas. (Those are my feet, not hers.)
And then let me explain why they are significant.
You see, I noticed something about all the socks I’ve been knitting her. They are all the right size nowadays at least. I’m used to knitting for her feet to the point where an attempt at knitting some for myself comes out in her size. Even if I try them on first.
But I never looked at the rest of her socks. You know, those ones purchased in store and the ones that I shove in the washing machine every few days. There are mounds of them. Piles and piles. I’ve never known someone to get through so many socks.
I noticed whilst doing the laundry like a good domestic goddess I am these days that she has an astounding amount of ankle socks. AHA! Said I. Christmas was coming and if I took into account her stumpy preferences I’d have a pair knitted before Christmas Day!
Let’s note it was two days before Christmas at this point and I was working both of those days. I never claimed to be sensible.
Somehow I managed it. My Christmas eve shift was as quiet as it was snow-free so I had plenty of time to finish them off. I forgot to reinforce one of the toes with that magical thready goodness the Lang sock yarns give birth to but they were fine. Lang lasts long enough and I still haven’t had the chance to darn anything so the uninforced toe will survive.
So there it is. Another pair of socks. My addiction doesn’t look like it’s abating any time soon although I am starting to get the urge to knit with a chunkier yarn. We’ll see.