I think that, as knitters, we all have that moment. It's the one where we just know that a project is not meant to be. It may hurt. But we accept it as an inevitable part of the process.
And yes. I do still count myself amongst the knitters. The fact that I have not actually finished anything of a knitted nature is not deterring me in the least. I think about knitting a lot and I have oodles of yarn laying about. My definition of "knitter" is a bit looser than it was back in the day...
As universal as this phenomenon is, however, we all seem to have our own unique pace when it comes to the knowing. I think it may have something to do with the learning curve, but I don't want to dwell on that too much right now. Under the circumstances, I don't feel that this is in my best interest.
For example, some people might catch onto the doomed nature of a pattern (let's just say it is a tam for the sake of argument) after the first attempt goes rather badly. Still...you can't really blame a knitter for giving it a second try.
Others might see the futility in the whole thing after the third stitch is dropped or after they need to tink back eight million rows to fix a rather stupid sort of error. That would most certainly be a good time to let the whole thing go the way of the frog pond.
And yet there are those intrepid souls who would forge ahead in the face of such adversity. They would knit on, hoping that the worst was behind them. However, their little moment of "knowing" might just come when the tam starts to develop a point. Tams do not have points. They would realize that they have been bested and just move on with their lives.
Then there are the true optimists. They need to believe that this is not really a point sprouting out of their tam, rather that it is a figment of their imaginations. However they will probably catch a clue when the whole thing doesn't decrease down to the right number of stitches or that the point is really and truly a point. And a rather firm one at that. There is no amount of blocking that is going to take down this mighty peak. None whatsoever. There is still time to walk away at this juncture. The knitter simply has to stop knitting.
I am none of these types of knitters. I knit on after the first attempt fails. I keep going even when more things go wrong than go right. I scale the height that is that mighty pointy thing.
And then I fasten off. I fasten off convinced that things will maybe work out. I fasten off tightly and in such a fashion as to render the yarn immovable. It is only with scissors that I am able to work out that steel fastening knot and even this does not stop me in my tracks. I go so far as to unravel some of the knitting in the hopes of getting back to a place where I can pick up the stitches again and make some sort of appropriate, non-pointy sort of top to this tam.
And that's when it hits me. I probably should just give up on the thing. I have no real love for this tam. I have less love for those stitches that need picking up. In fact, it is fair to say that I hate the tam. I hate it with the passion to ignite a thousand suns. I never, ever want to lay eyes on it again and wish for it a moth-infested demise.
That's my moment of "knowing." And why we shall not discuss my learning curve for a few weeks. We will just pretend the whole thing never happened.
Let's look at the kitties, why don't we? That is a cheerful sort of thing and something that always nicely distracts both the blog readers as well as the blog writer. Here's the Big, Fluffy Kitty taking her turn in the new Tunnel Connector Thingie That I Bought By Accident:
If she looks wary, that's because she is. Baby Brother is lurking and awaiting his chance to hurtle into the cave.
He still loves his good ol' Collapsible Cat Cave, though. He can sit in that until Big Sister decides to vacate the new clubhouse.
In spite of its being shredded to ribbons in places, the Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty still loves his widdle cave...
At least until the new one becomes available...
There. That took care of the whole knitting thing pretty handily. And now I can't knit anyway since the AGK took exception to my adjusting the cat cave a little for the photo op and sunk a claw into my pinky finger. I am injured and must rest so I shall not knit. This will also avoid any future issues with such things as dropped stitches and pointy outcroppings.
Sometimes my moment of "knowing" actually does come to me in a more timely fashion.