Why, why, why?

Okay, so my Jaywalkers were turning out to be a little big, so I ended up ripping them back entirely. Now, they fit much better (I'm already to the gussets and ready to start the heel), but I keep losing my size 1 dpns.

Why? I have no clue.

So the other day I brought the socks (sock, whatever-it will eventually be two socks when I finish the first one) into work thinking that I might be able to work on them. I wasn't able to work on them then, but I did have time when I got home. I got it out to work on it and I couldn't find the fifth dpn (they become a teensy bit hard to work on when you don't have the correct amount of dpns), so I took out an old metal size 1 dpn that I was able to find and knit with that for the evening. Then, yesterday, I did the same kind of thing. I put the sock and needles in my bag brought it to work-didn't work on it at all- and brought it home. I looked for the loose dpn when I got home and I had lost another one. No clue what happened to it at all.

I've looked around the house thinking that maybe I never put the loose dpn in my bag, but I can't find it (hmm . . . maybe the cats are messing with me and I should look under the couch). I looked in my truck under the sits, in the seats, and all that, thinking that perhaps my bag wasn't always upright and the little bugger slipped out. Not there. I looked this morning here at work next to where I always set my bag. Nothin'

It's a conspiracy I tell you. I think my husband, my dad, and the cats must be in on it. They're telling me that I need to not knit when I should be doing other things.


I mean don't these photos show that these people (and cat) are pure evil:

Dan as a child-the uncanny evilness already abounded in him. Look at those crafty, scheming little hands. He was already thinking of stealing knitting needles. (that explains why there aren't any needles at his parents place)


Sure he looks friendly enough, but he really wants me to finish his vest rather than working on socks that he'll never get to wear.

You certainly can't trust this fellow. He doesn't want me knitting-ever! He just wants his belly rubbed and would like me to make him fried chicken for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

They are the meanest bad guys ever and they must be stopped! Knitting needles beware!