divorce

Dear Raglan Sweater,

I really thought that this time, you were the one. I fell for your teal colored cotton/angora-ness, your softness and your shape...oh my your shape. I adore the very stuff you're made of and (especially) your gentle touch and warmth, and I even could have learned to love the way your occasional loose fiber would make its way up my nose and cause me to sniffle and sneeze. "Allergies be damned!" I said. Cause when it's love, who cares about a little nose tickle?

So where did we go wrong? When I swatched you, you were a perfect five stitches per inch. Perfect! I know, cause I counted repeatedly, as it seemed too good to be true. So I printed my pattern guide, did all my math based on what you told me, and cast on. But you, Raglan...you lied. Once we actually began, you changed your mind about your gauge. Maybe you saw me working on designs for the funky scarf pattern. Maybe you heard me talk about Sock Wars once too often. Perhaps you saw the printed pattern for the Simply Knit Bodice, and that was Just. Too. Much. And so you sought to get even. Did you silently giggle as you sent angora up my sensitive nose? Were you cackling with glee when I'd try you on and think "hmm, it seems a little big, but it's ok, it's supposed to be a tad big, and besides it's cotton and will shrink a little, so really it's perfect"? Oh how you deceived and deluded me.

I suppose I just fell so in love with how easily we seemed to get along, that I hardly noticed that suddenly you were half a stitch off and becoming far too large for my frame. I made excuses for you. Shame on me. And I would have been faithful! I diligently worked on you, neglecting all other projects in hope of savoring and embracing our time together. But no, you just couldn't trust me. I may have had other yarns on my mind, but you flat out lied. And technically, I didn't cheat.*

I made mistakes here, yes, but so did you. We could have been so beautiful together. Perhaps the timing wasn't right. Perhaps you're really supposed to be a v-neck. Whatever. It's over.


Not exactly cordially,

Mel


P.S. After I've had my way with a few other projects, we'll try again. But until then, you just sit in your bag, all balled up, and think about what you've done.


*As far as you know.