I am not one to read too much into omens, as much as I have a habit of tracking the feathers I find and am most likely more superstitious than I like to let on.
After about a year and two other attempts and patterns, I have finally started another sweater using some of the handspun I was working on last year. I’m hoping it’ll get me to get Freya out of storage, work down fiber, and I really honestly need my hands busy right now. I decided the problem has been that I’ve been forcing a yarn that really doesn’t want to be a cable into a cable, and decided I like the yarn in a rib much more. Ribbing is really forgiving so it’s actually a helpful move-I actually am aiming for bulky and heavy, for Buffalo winters, and the shaping with be that much easier.
So I happily packed my bag for work, got a few rows in before shift started and then the worst happened.
The damnable needle broke in my bag. And proverbial hell broke loose.
I remember hearing somewhere in my 20 years of fiber wanderings-though Internetlandia is failing me to back it up-that breaking a needle is a hugely negative omen. And within half an hour I was in fights, embarrassing scheduling mishaps and somehow have forgotten how to spell.
I have been knitting for 20 years and this is the first needle I’ve had go on me in the middle of a project. The sheer amount of tension and conflict in the rest of the day makes me want to hunker down in a woolly shelter. I’m not necessarily saying I’m sure it was the needle…but the needle didn’t help.