Sometimes, you feel like nothing is going right. You wake up on the wrong side of the bed, you stub your toe on the way to the shower, maybe nothing goes horrendously wrong but the sum of the parts doesn't exactly make a beautiful, sunshiney day.
Then, there are the days where everything goes right. You make new friends, you nap in the sun, you play in the pool. You spend most of your day knitting a sock.
And then, just as you're about to start the ribbing for the top of the leg, you go to try it on to show your grandmother how good it looks on your foot.
And it just doesn't fit.
And that is the moment, at a memorial day picnic, as you struggle to get the skinny sock leg over your bony little heel, when you realize that that whole good day was fate/God/someone upstairs softening the blow that this sock is not working for you.
And later, when the party is over, you frog back the sock all the way (even though you could have stopped at the toe, you just weren't paying attention.)
And the next morning, you cast on for it again, because it's only the right thing to do.