You know the one. It’s 8 years old, kept in an ancient Walgreens bag. You know where the pattern is, you know where the tool is. You know how many years it’s been since you worked on it last (3) and how many times you’ve moved it (7). By the intervention of the yarn gods, you actually still want the finished product. So you make unto the mighty ones a foolish vow.
I won’t move this again.
But it’s not a terribly motivating vow, as it is safe in your parent’s house, not to be moved any time soon, until you get nostalgic and have your mother mail it to you (does that count as a move?). Of course, by the time the mail gets around to delivering a package (whaaat?! deliver mail??!! the postman??!!!), the nostalgia has worn off and it sits around for another 10 months or so. But then you realize you’ll be moving soon. Maybe really soon. I mean, maybe not, but maybe March levels of soon.
So, one Monday, you get it out, nearly tearing the fragile plastic bag, and count the finished motifs. You find out how close you came 3 years ago when you got it out last. You think, I’m only 2 vines and some mesh short of finished! I could do this yet this week!
So you make another extremely foolish vow.
2015, I will end you with the finishing of a chapter of my life. The incomplete, ancient garment chapter.
And then you start making one of the vines and remember. It’s accursed. Pronounce that past tense ending. Accursed.
Wish me luck?
Leave me a comment either year of your oldest worthwhile but incomplete project, and I will cheer you on, too!