Sock toes were finished out, nice and even. I laid them out to admire my handiwork, and I felt something was wrong. It wasn't like when I tried them on before. No, this was much, much deeper.
I was taking the photos, and the thought surfaced in my head like a sunrise.
Wrong sock.
Wrong sock.
It was like the big reveal of a thriller, where scenes flash really fast across the screen and you in the theatre seat realize it as the leading actor's jaw drops. Picture some voice echoing here.
Wrong wrong wrong wrong sock sock sock sock
Guys.
I cut the wrong sock.
Should I be laughing or crying? Dan laughed at me.
I took this picture but it sums up how I feel pretty well. I think these things are going to sit in the knitting basket for a bit.