It's the only conclusion I have reached after the events of the past several weeks. I'm not sure what reason it has to hate me, but hate me it does. Suddenly and violently and all over the place.
There are my January KAL socks. Which, two months past the deadline, I still have not finished. I was knitting away at them, still very much within my self-imposed deadline, when I reached the toe decreases. What possessed me to stop and count my stitches, I don't know, but I did. And I discovered that somehow when I was decreasing the stitches for the gussets, I decreased too much. the sole of my sock was six stitches short because I, apparently, am an idiot who doesn't know how to count. I tried it on, and yep, it's noticeably tighter than its mate. I frogged the entire foot.
But I was not discouraged. I valiantly started knitting away at it again. An inch and a half later, I realize that I ripped back too far, and now it's hasn't been decreased enough. Because I'm an idiot who still doesn't know how to count. I ripped back again.
Frustrated with the sock, I put it in time-out. Then I went out and bought myself a skein of Malabrigo in the colorway Stonechat and cast on for a hat. I'm about halfway through the first lace panel, when I realize that I somehow, and I have no idea how, screwed it up. Ripped back. Put the hat in time out as well.
Moved on to my goofy orange hat. Screwed up the decreases, but luckily I caught the mistake three rounds in. Ripped back and reknit because damn it I was going to bloody well finish something. The rest came out all right.
Empowered by my recent victory I went back to the Spiteful Lace Socks of Hatred. Knit the foot, obsessively counting the stitches every other row. Ended with the correct number. Knit the toe. Realized that the toe of the first sock and second sock look very different. Consult the pattern. Realize that the pattern says decrease every other row. And, yep, I decreased every row. I'm an idiot, and somehow I managed to not catch it before I cut the yarn. Very nearly pitched the whole thing across the room in a childish temper tantrum. The sock is in time out again.
Considered going back to my stonechat hat. Remembered that my stonechat has already expressed its hatred toward me. It's still in time out. Cast on for my sweater instead.
I've been putting off this sweater for a long time. I was disappointed in it before I ever started it, because the yarn looked different online than in person. I thought I was ordering grey and brick-red yarn. Instead I was actually getting grey and brownish-red yarn. But after knitting it up, the color combination has grown on me. It's still not something I would have chosen intentionally, but I think that it works well. Take a look!
I'm almost done with the back, and while at first I thought I had broken the string of evilness, I was wrong. The stripes are supposed to be 20 rows wide. I've been knitting them 24 rows wide. Where I got 24 from, I have no idea. But I didn't discover that my stripes are too wide until I was halfway done with the back. The hell with it, I said, I'll have wide stripes. I don't care.
Then I discovered that not all stripes are 24. The first two after the ribbing were 24. The one after that was 28, and god knows how many the one after that would have been. Probably 38457298734 if I'd had my way about things. I ripped back. All stripes are 24 now.
I also just discovered (and may or may not have hurled my knitting away from me while swearing violently at it) that despite counting and re-counting and re-re-counting, I still cast on an incorrect number of stitches. Four too few. I just fudged the increases so at least the top half will have the right number. Did I mention I apparently suck at counting? I think a kindergartener could count better than I can. It's kind of pathetic.
But that's not true. It's just what my knitting wants me to think. It wants me to think I can't count and can't read a pattern to save my life. It wants me to doubt these basic skills I've mastered since grade school. To what end, I don't know, but it clearly has some clever, evil plot.
So, you see, my knitting hates me.
But that's okay, because right now I hate it back.