As I've never made a garment I do not know the joys of visiting Sleeve Island. But ladies and gents, sock heel flaps? I think they're related, seriously. I think it's that: slip 1 knit 1 that gets you; there seem to be only half as many rows as you think there should be, and they don't seem to be growing AT ALL.
Doing both at the same time? I start fantasizing about finally having enough rows and how I will celebrate with alcohol and a happy dance! I am a sad person, I know. I'm an obsessed person, I know. I am a sad and obsessed person. I know.
But you know what's cool? Cuz this is where I LIVE people: knitting socks while wearing knitted socks...it's like some kind of silent motivation to know that I can accomplish what I'm doing cuz I have done so already. The millions of stitches on tooth-pick-sized needles will indeed come to an end and I'll have to come up with yet another sock pattern--umm I mean project, yes, not necessarily another pair of socks, no.
Except...here's my goal, I've been formulating it slowly but surely you see...I'm really tired of having socks that don't quite fit. I am. Cutting off circulation to my already poorly circulated extremities is a pisser to say the least. I'm "voicing" the thought that popped into my head as I mailed off my first pair of socks, ever to my mom: I can make these my size and they will fit. I'm starting with these "whole" socks to get an idea of how many stitches it takes for me to have comfy socks. When I fail, my mom ends up with another pair. Easy breezy, huh? I mean, my mom needs socks too! As we found out last Christmas, our shoe sizes might be MILES apart from one another, but thanks to the width issues my mom has with her tiny little feet, we could pretty much share socks. Once I'm down with the size issue, I can move on to "footies." But these HAVE to fit me. My mom does not wear footies.
A simple plan, see?
Okay, back to heel-flap-ville.