They can't all be works of art, now can they?
So, I did a thing and it came out well. It was extremely form fitting, the sleeves and hem were long enough that I could reach out without body exposure.
Then disaster strikes, I place it in a basket to soak and shape. Wetness occurs and my wrath must be suppressed because the only other occupant of my work-space is the heir that isn't aware. How can I be pissed off at this face for long?
See what I mean?
At this point, I can only stare in absolute sadness and resignation at my beloved sweater. I haven't tried Color Rid or anything. I've kept it covered, hanging in the closet. Ugh, I'm going to go listen to John OFA Rhee's "Over It" and get all angsty. :)
