In a minute, in a minute...

I am going to go sit in my rocking chair and finish the last sleeve of Eldest’s new sweater . I’m more than halfway through now, and there is no reason why I can’t finish that damned sleeve before bedtime tonight. Might could even get the sweater seamed together tonight, if I get busy, like, uh, now.

Which I’m going to do! Because I have two other kids who have been clamoring, “Measure me! Measure ME!” for the last two weeks since I started this one for Eldest. And besides – it’s so close to being done. I’m going to go do it.

I mean it.

In…a minute.

I don’t know what it is about the last sleeve of a sweater, but I always seem to find it a sticking point. It’s like the last mile of a long hike: after coming all that way, facing the last few steps, you’d just really rather…not. I’ve even tried doing the sleeves first, thinking that maybe if I do the ‘gung ho’ front last instead of first, I’ll still be gung ho at the end of the project.

Nope. It still sets in, only now I don’t want to finish the front.

The only thing worse is the finishing – the part where you take the front, back, and two sleeves, and seam them carefully together in a way that creates an actual garment.

And the only thing more ‘eh’ than that is the part where you tediously pick up x stitches around the neck and finish those last 8-14 rows of ribbing that will actually make it a sweater that can be worn without having to explain, “Well, my mom got it all done to this point but then lost all motivation and said, ‘Oh, just…wear it, kid! Or don’t you love your mother, who slaved and slaved to make this for you…WITH LOVE, DAMMIT!’, so…I’m wearing it. Just as it is. With no collar and loose yarn ends flapping in the breeze.”

This, by the way, is why I like to make socks and baby jackets. You’re done long before the whole ‘eh’ thing sets in. They’re the closest thing to instant gratification that knitting offers. Socks sometimes get close while you’re doing the leg and calf areas, but then suddenly you’re turning the heel and it gets interesting again…then you’re decreasing for the toe and each round gets faster and faster to knit and then WHAM! You’re fumbling around with that damned kitchener stitch and there’s another sock, done.

Afghans, on the other hand…never again. I’ve said that for the last, uh {counts on fingers} six afghans I’ve made. About a third of the way through, I hold my hand up to my forehead and moan, “Never. Again. What was I thinking? I’m so bored with this, and I’ve got about six million rows to go!”

If you’re sensing a certain reticence about going in the other room, parking my butt and getting back to business…well, what’s your point?!