I. Am. So. Bored.

My projects all suck. They are boring. They are dull. And boring. So very very boring. I am getting very little pleasure from knitting because all my projects are boring. And dull.

First on the lame parade:

Man mittens. Done. He likes them, they're fine, I used up some leftover yarn. Whatever. Dull. And boring.

Also, secret project.

Blocking squares. Then edging them. Then panicking about running out of yarn in the edging color, so buying more. Then edging and blocking. Then wising up and figuring out that the yarn won't split so much if I use a larger crochet hook. Duh. Then realizing there still won't be enough yarn in the edging color, so tracking down some more and driving there in the rain to get some, to include sitting at a red light for 6 minutes and realizing it isn't cycling and then having to wait another 2 minutes for an opening to get out of the turn lane and go around.

Also lame: the purple sweater. I knit a lot of socks. I use mostly size 0 and 1 needles, sometimes 2s. When I knit something that is not socks, I usually end up on 4s, 5s, or 7s. This is a lovely chunky weight yarn and I'm using 11s. I feel like I'm trying to knit with softball bats. My hands get tired faster and the needles, Addi Turbos, which I normally love, are making an annoying clicking sound that is making me crazy. Hate. Irrational hate.

Thank you socks. I've decided they may never be finished. I only have about 3/4 inch of 2x2 ribbing and a cast-off to go on the second sock and then I will be done. Knit. Knit. Switch yarn over. Purl. Purl. Switch yarn over. Knit. Knit. See? You're bored too.

Beagle blanket is in a deep state of stasis. Maybe it's in cryogenic sleep. Soon, I will start to feel guilty about it and the brown yarn will start appearing in my dreams at night.

I don't know. I guess there's some other stuff too. It's also lame. Some other socks or something. God, three other pairs of socks. One ugly, one for The Man, and one I think I'm going to send to my grandmother.

The only projects I have any interest in are the ones in my head. I haven't started yet, but I have the yarn picked out and an idea at least or in some cases even a pattern ready to go. But. I. Have. Seven. SEVEN! Works. In. Progress. With seven, I feel like I'm constantly working but never actually getting anywhere. However, I am compulsive, so I must finish at least two pairs of socks before I can start a new one, and I can only do one sweater at a time, and as soon as the secret project is finished for real I'm working on the goddamn beagle blanket and The Boys had better damn well appreciate it.