Frogging in Hard Water

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!  That is said in a tight voice through clenched teeth.  Repeat for emphasis.  I have just completed the worst frogging job in the history of knitting.  I was completely dissatisfied with my rendering of a 17-inch span of small stockinette stitch.  Stockinette is not my favorite, large expanses of smooth stuff not being how I usually want my yarn to turn out.  I had trouble coming to terms with this gauge, using smaller needles, pulling tighter, using still smaller needles, pulling tighter, pulling tighter…until I pulled myself into an inflammed left first metacarpal-phalangeal joint.  Translation:  the base of my left thumb hurts, is swollen, and isn’t going to hold anything tightly for a long while; it showed me today when I tried to get the cap off the Pam.  Damn.  I let this go on for a couple of days, trying to compensate, and wound up with a terribly uneven gauge.  Lucy wouldn’t notice, but any more skilled knitter than her would. 

In case you are not a knitter (although I don’t know why you would choose that particular stance), frogging means taking apart.  (You know, rip it, rip it or “ribbit, ribbit”.)  It isn’t the neat little unknitting stitch by stitch to reach a mistake and correct it.  It is the furious unraveling of hours and days of your life, marked in innumerable tiny stitches that you formed one at a time with the hopeful and totally erroneous supposition that you would end with a lovely handknit garment.

Well, the sad part is over.  I’ve already figured out that with a still-smaller needle I can knit continental and purl English and keep a lovely gauge, and if I do this for approximately 47 hours per day for the next week I will finish my piece when I want to.  Don’t call.  I’m busy. 

On the “good news” side, I have hot water!  Saturday my bath was about 200 degrees Fahrenheit, and I knew something bad was happening but couldn’t identify it until I awoke Sunday with not a drop of hot water-the classic crash and burn, burn first.  I called my best buddies, RotoRooter, and they sent out the world’s nicest guy to fix my hot water heater.  I swear.  I can’t tell you much about how he looked except he was tall and regular, but he actually said it was “a glorious day” and talked about living “simply”.  He loved my dog and she loved him.  He explained what he was doing and showed me my elements, both heavily crusted with calcium deposits and other gunk.  Chattanooga, did you know you have terribly hard water?  Why didn’t you tell me?  So…my four-year-old hot water heater has new elements and I bet we’ll have enough hot water for a bath and a shower and maybe a load of whites, too.  And maybe I’ll call perfectly pleasant plumber (not a hint of P.C.) back to install a water softening unit. 

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!  Fourteen hours ago I left a loaf of whole wheat/barley/millet bread rising on my stove, and by now there is a bubbling heap of dough working it’s way down the front of the stove and across the kitchen and out the garage door.  This day is just full of life. 

Peace!

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One Response

  1. I feel your pain, last week we had water issues. Alls better now.

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