The DIC Shrug got its revenge this evening. After a fortifying day of exercise and reading, I decided to settle into the sunshine chair (a squooshy chair located right by the window), watch a little Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and get to picking up those stitches. Everything was zipping along until my dad asked me to close the window--but even then I figured I'd be fine. It wasn't as idyllic, but I still had some light to work by and the movie was so funny--how could I deny him a better viewing experience?
A few hours later, and I've realized the mistake. Somewhere after the first forty of the 182 stitches I picked up, I got off of the double rib pattern. Also, somehow--despite careful counting and a great deal of patience--I picked up a number that can not possibly be 182 stitches. If it were 182 stitches, I would have do some wiggling to make the pattern work.
Yet the appropriate wiggling made the edging wonkier than it was before.
However, all this wonky-ness did not catch my attention until a row and a half later. At first, my natural reaction was (as a wise, wise knitter once told me) to just keep on knitting and pretend nothing had happened.
This quickly proved to be a bad plan, leaving me with a wierd mish-mash instead of lovely, defined ribbing.
The appropriate swearing ensued and I dug a crochet hook out of my needle binder.
After an hour I had everything in order--plus I can now boast that I'm completely adept at dropping and picking up stitches.
But I've confined the shrug to it's ziploc bag once more--it needs to take a long hard look at it's recent behavior before I let it try to cozy up to me again.