When good socks go giganto

I have never had to frog a sock completely before. When I started knitting socks, I had to rip out a heel turn a couple of times until I got the hang of it. But a whole sock? Not to mention two.

This is an example of how horrifying situations can develop right under your nose (literally) and because it happens gradually, you don’t see it. You just keep right on knitting, thinking you must be imagining things, you have just forgotten how socks look on the needles, and it will surely all turn out fine in the end . . .

. . . because you are knitting these socks just like all your other socks, right? In fact, from the same identical pattern and similar yarn, right?  Right?

Wrong . . . oh, so wrong. You, wordknitter, didn’t suspect that your gauge might change. It hasn’t changed in your history of knitting, so why would it do so now?

Well, it would do so because your arms hurt from knitting too much. And so the Knitting Command Center in your brain is taking charge and commanding your fingers to knit more loosely, oh so loosely. In fact, you are in a meditative, blissful state and allowing your fingers to do whatever they want.

And this is the result. The normal-sized adult sock is on the left. The Knitting Command Center’s product is on the right. Yes, knit by the very same hands, but my brain was clearly hijacked (by the KCC, or possibly by aliens) as I knit the second pair.

To make matters worse, the sock on the left is worsted wool; the one on the right is DK weight wool. So if anything, it should be smaller than the sock on the left.

AND I didn’t knit just one sock. Oh no, too efficient for that. I knit both blue socks at once on four circulars, so I ended up with two matching socks that would fit King Kong, if he only wore socks. (He has ape fur to keep his toes warm and does not need wool, apparently.)

The above photo was taken after I’d already been overcome with ever-growing waves of suspicion, horror, and resignation, not to mention nausea.

And finally, of course . . . laughter and a bottle of wine.

There was nothing to do but frog the first blue sock, rewind it into a cake, and return it to the anonymity of my stash.

Right after the photo was taken, the second blue sock was awarded the same fate.

>sigh<