The Sound of One Frog Laughing

Thursday this week was That Kind of Day. My attempt to find a flat in Dublin wasn't going well. I was seeing a lot of grungy, mouldy places with barely enough space for a spinning wheel, never mind my beloved. Frustrated and unable to concentrate on work, I pulled out the Avast cardigan I'm making him and tried to knit. After about eight inches of raglan decreases I had been starting to feel I was really making progress. This sweater is definitely an act of love: miles and miles of stocking stitch in rough pebble-grey wool at DK weight. He didn't like the cable so I replaced it with some ribbing at the bottom of the sweater, but since then it's been straight stocking the whole way. So you can imagine my despair when I finally noticed that the left and right sides of the front were definitely not what you would call even. I counted. Thirteen stitches of not-even. A few of those were missed decreases, but I knew I wasn't that forgetful.

No. Bored by the stocking stitch, I'd gotten careless. I forgot a key step involving some underarm binding off. I studied the sweater. I wondered for a while how Timo would feel about an off-centre cardigan. And then I frogged. Eight long inches. 50-odd rows at about 300 stiches a row, all wound into a nice fat ball of grey wool once more with the spit joins still intact.

I've managed to knit an inch on it since then. Every time I pick it up, I hear the sound of one frog laughing.