So I’ve been working on my Baby Corn project, and fervently knitting it on the train. Way back in the day when I used to knit/crochet on public transit, I used to get strange looks, like, what the hell are you doing kind of looks. Now I get the “I’m intentionally not looking at you but I’m going to glance at you out of the corner of my eye” kind of looks when I’m knitting in public.
Anyway, yesterday when I was knitting on the Brown Line, all the way from the Kimball stop downtown to Washington/Wells (Chicagoans know this is a fairly long ride and thus a good time to knit away) I noticed a dropped stitch. Oh me, oh my! What was I to do? I didn’t have a crochet hook handy, which is usually how I’d fix a dropped stitch. I was only two stops into my ride, and I didn’t want to put away my knitting and wait until I got home to fix it. So I tried to fix it using my needles. Bad idea. It became a twisted mess of loops and yarn and I must admit, I panicked and freaked out a tiny bit before I pulled myself together and soldiered on. I was able to salvage what I could of the mess I made and it worked for the time being and I was able to continue knitting. But the mistake was still present and staring me in the face and screaming to be fixed.
So when I got home, I grabbed my handy dandy crochet hook and got to work.
In the end, I had to fix two dropped stitches rather than one, but it was well worth it. Now all my stitches are in there proper place and all is right with the world.
Moral of the story: never leave home without that damn crochet hook; you never know when you’ll need it and panic attacks on the El are so not cool.