4 stitches. That’s the difference between a snug, well fitting sock and a baggy mess. I ignored this fact for 3 weeks or a foot, a gusset, a heel, and 4” of cuff. For a brief moment, I half-heartedly considered finishing the sock. Though, what’s the point in knitting an ill-fitting pair of socks? So, I ripped it all out.* Didn’t even bother to save the toe and stick it back on the needles. I’m over the whole thing. The yarn and the pattern are going into time out. Eventually, I’ll pull them back out. Not any time soon though.
So, no pair of socks for February. My year of socks isn’t looking so good; however, I’m going to enjoy my sock knitting sabbatical and knit something else instead. A freeing thought actually.
*But only after a good night’s sleep. It took the sting out of the whole affair. The night before, ripping would have been aggravating and demotivating instead of necessary and right.