Digitessa Dilemma

Dear goodness.

I think it took some time for the full gravity of what happened to me in the last 24 hours to hit me.

Do you realize that I ripped back my sock, one Digitessa sock, at least six times for no reason?!

That is shocking, just shocking. I am sitting here, looking at the sad little half-sock of the first, pretty Digitessa I took of the needles for its own protection and holding the Digitessa made of crap yarn I could rip back a billion times and never care about and---

All of it was unnecessary. I can't believe I didn't give up on this mess. I can't believe I didn't log on to Ravelry and buy a shot glass with their logo and "Frogged" written across it. I would have bought two. Then I would have gone outside and filled each with some kind of liquor, whatever we have in the house. If nothing, I would have gotten a little bottle of something elitist from the liquor store, because La Digitessa is an elitist sort of sock. Listen to the description taken from the pattern by Yarnissima: "She is demanding. She certainly has a will of her own. She is elegance in person." Yep. Digitessa is the popular girl that wouldn't look at me, at all, even when she spoke to me (asking for homework help). That's her. Only prettier.

Then, I would have taken the sock and placed it next to one of the glasses. Take in mind that this is the Digitessa made of the crap yarn; I have spent more time with this one. I would have saluted the sock, taken my shot, coughed repeatedly, gasped for air, wiped my watering eyes, perhaps I would have run for water or lay on the floor, grasping my burning throat. When I had finished, I would have poured out the shot onto the ground in front of my sock. Or onto my sock, depending on how mad I really was at it. If I poured it onto the ground, I would have gotten some wood, soaked it in water overnight, then I would have dipped the sock in kerosene and placed it on top of the wood. I would have placed the sock and wood into the water, then lit the sock afire. Singing a dirge, or something, I would have watched the burning sock go down the river like the Vikings of old.

If I poured the alcohol on the sock, I would have stood over it, moving my hands over the flame to encourage its growth. Like a rock star who had just lit his guitar on fire after slamming it on the ground and breaking it into pieces.

I know it sounds like I have really thought this through.