OK, so the sock thing is bugging me.
Marilyn brought a book called Baby Feet to StitchCraft last night and there was a pattern for a pair of socks. You make seven pair and put them in a box and it's called Socks In a Box, one pair of socks for every day of the week. And the darn things were soooooo cute. It was then the sock started laughing at me though it was five miles away sitting on the sofa.
I don't think I've ever been the competitive sort. OK, that's not entirely true. I have been known to be competitive, but only with myself. I won't knock little old ladies down in a rush to get to the free samples in the drug store. (Unless it's chocolate then, sorry Granny, but youth has its perks.)
But I have been known to get an idea in my head and work towards it. The single sock is laughing at me. I will not put a photo of it laughing at me, but I have looked at it and it looks like it's having a giggle at me for not redoing it. Of course, I know I could unravel it and that would solve the problem, but I think it would come to me in a dream like I was Alison DuBois, the medium of all dead socks.
Death would be too good for the sock. I must make it swallow its own instep and shut up. I'm on the hunt for a simple sock pattern.