what a tangled skein we pull

I am stubborn and often dumb. I know that. Lo conosco, as my Italian tapes have told me. Sono stupida, si. I have spent literally hours and hours with a skein of rayon ribbon yarn, which I loved so much at the sheep and wool festival that I doubled back to get it. I had said, "I will hate myself and forever regret not buying this stuff, because I have left a skein before and dreamt often about what might have been." (insert the song, "of all the skeins I've loved befoooore...") I bought two of these ribbon hanks, and haven't touched the other one because I am Cursed.

I have cursed as well. I have listened to an entire book on tape and about 4 hours worth of sermons from Tim Keller at Redeemer Presbyterian in NYC (that should help with the cursing, right?). I have gone to bed at 2 or 3 in the morning for 2 nights in a row, when I should be getting my beauty sleep and packing for Italy and spending time with my son, who will not be coming with us.

But here I am, blogging while he naps and knowing I still have about an hour left of unraveling this bloody thing. I have spent all this time with my yarn, not stitching away and creating something that drapes like cool water on a sunburned back--NO!--I am unraveling the 7-inch-diameter Knot from HADES. And I have to unravel it. I have to! Do you hear?

It is all my fault. I was seduced by how slippery it was. Snaky slidey ribbon, a plague on you! I took the wrapper off the hank, and it was already kindof messy before I took the little strings off that hold the hank in place. I was possessed or something, thinking this stuff will just slide around and have no trouble, so I won't bother putting the hank over my feet or a chair or whatever I use to wind it up. I knew this would happen. I have spent less time on another skein, when I first started knitting, and was bewildered at how tangly things can really get if you don't do them correctly.

Well I am now a cautionary tale. I have cut the yarn about 7 times, maybe 8, when it can no longer be pulled through the dense black hole of knottige. Each time I cut, I think "how am I going to weave the ends of this crap? I'm going to have 20 ugly knots on anything I make out of this! You EEEdiot!

This has been a week of "I'm sick of this *$#@!* material!" I was working on a white cotton thread cloche, which started out looking like a yarmulke, then like Moussaoui's hat he wore during his trial, and then like a baby's hat on a too-big head. It fit like a baby's hat, smushing my hair down and nearly giving me a headache from the pressure. So I unraveled it for the 4th time, which is not terribly unusual. I rarely work from patterns, and make things up as I go along. Mistakes I just rip out, even if the whole thing is a mistake. I know I won't wear something if it doesn't fit right, so I have disciplined myself to take care of those mistakes ahead of time. Then I don't have an excuse. All the same, I got tired of seeing just white, white shells over and over, and the top of my index finger was raw from all that thread traveling across it. Boo hoo, right? So what better than to put it aside and unravel a hank of luxurious rayon ribbon? Now I know. Anything is better.

I could have just trashed the whole thing, but I spent about 20 bucks on this sucker (now multiply 20 bucks times 10 hours and think a bit...) so I felt compelled to get it under control. The final insult is that it smells mildly smoky when I put my face in it. We are not amused. Will it ever be turned into a garment I will love (or someone else will love?)? Maybe I will think better of it when I return from a restful time in bell'Italia.