I've finished up the body of the hated scarf and am working on the feathers now. I'll probably get two of the three that are knitted in today, then tomorrow the last knitted in and the tied on feathers. I'll be so glad to see the back of this darn thing.
Compound that by the fact that I had to move my stitches to a stitch holder so I could knit it in sections and I dropped every single stitch that was supposed to be on the holder. I think I used all the swear words in all combinations I've ever known, and a few that are completely new. Thank the Gods of Knitting that I finished the first feather and went back to pick up the stitches, or I'd have been royally screwed. And that no young, impressionable listeners were nearby. I'm fairly certain I recaptured them all, but it makes me nervous. I can't see the damn things between the fur and feathers, and it's turning into the scarf from hell. Very appropriate color for it, I must say.
And, to highlight how ill with yarn addiction I have become--little yarn whore that I am--I have photographic proof that my addiction is harming those I love most, in particular, my canid son. Witness:
Can you see it? Can you? Wait:
PHOENIX SCARF FUZZ! The worst part is he wasn't even aware of it. I am so ashamed. The first step is to admit you have a problem; I do. The second is to surrender your stash to a higher power, which is not happening. Oh, well. I'll just have to learn how to hide the signs of addiction: bags under the eyes from staying up late to bind off, calluses on the fingertips from the needles, bruises on the upper thigh from where I brace my left hand needle. Maybe it won't interfere with my work life or relationships. Yeah, yeah. I'm totally in control of my need for yarn. Totally.
(I'm so hosed....)