... but I have been incapable of doing anything but knit. Knit. Knit. Knit.
But what glorious results. I have a real sweater.
Onyx Heather. That's a fancy way of saying "charcoal gray ALMOST boring enough to make you want to cry but just enough specks of lighter gray to keep you marginally sane." Especially when you are fantasically proud of yourself for producing such a fine example of knitted woolen wear in a particularly adult size.
Really. It WILL be adult size when complete. Really. I hope.
I knitted 770 yards of worsted weight Onyx Heather over the course of a week.
Child added for scale.
I knit at home.
I knit on the trolley. I knit in the movie theater.
Now I'm out of yarn. And you all know why I've been so quiet. I've been besotted with myself. And my very fine sweater.