Warning, this post is about knitting socks.
I knit a lot of socks. As the husband often points out, I don’t need any more socks. He’s right. I don’t. My sock drawer is overflowing. I knit them all year long, even though in our climate I only wear them about five months a year.
The husband wears socks all year long, so logic demanded that I knit some for him. He complains about them. The first pair were too hard to get on (he was right about that). The second, he complained, were not round on the ends. I told him to look at the ends of his feet, neither were they. The third pair were too “girly,” and the fourth — you get the picture.
However, he wears them. So I keep knitting them.
I’m knitting Bayerische Socks by Eunny Lang. They are crazy hard for socks — four charts, twisted stitches on every round, 98 stitches, size zero needles. Crazy. But fun to knit. I finished one yesterday, and left it near my chair. I walked into the living room this afternoon and saw this:
I asked him, “Do you like that sock?”
“I like the color,” he replied.
“Does it fit?”
“Yep, where’s the other one?”