sweet, sweet misery

What is it with me and socks?  Theoretically, I think they’d be tons of fun to knit and wear.  Every other knitting blog I read seems to extoll the virtues of the sock.  (And, hey, I obviously have to jump off of that bridge too.)  Theoretically, I know how to use dpns and make various forms of ribbing.  In practice, I’ve even made a mini-sock.  And I have a lot of sock yarn and very fine needles.  Why, oh why does this never materialize into sock nirvana?

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Sweet, colorful yarn.  Winsome, lithe needles.  And yet, it is the bane of my existence.  I’m not going for anything too complicated.  Just a nice ribbed sock.  But I can’t get past the first row — things go wonky, the join stretches out in a very unbecoming manner, etc. 

And is it even possible to get the same gauge, using the same yarn on size 1, 2, and 3 needles?  I didn’t think so.  But it happened somehow, probably because it was 2 a.m. and I should have been in bed, not starting a pair of socks.

Maybe I just don’t have the mental concentration necessary to start a pair of socks right now.  Dpns with tiny fine yarn (neither of which I use regularly) does not make for the mindless, automatic reading-time knitting I’ve been specializing in lately.  But is it just a lack of commitment on my part?  To just sit down, focus on one task, and not quit until it’s done?  I have the same trouble with my reading and studying … the nagging, little scratchings of suspicion that perhaps this isn’t what I want to be doing with my life.  That knitting as escape from the ├╝ber-cerebral pursuits of grad school is not enough … that I shouldn’t be constantly searching for new means of egress from my daily life.  I don’t know. 

Maybe I just need to practice making socks.