How long can a project sit before it starts to stink? And how long does it have to sit before it stops stinking ?

Honestly, I don’t know. But I’ll tell you a story–a story about a lonely little project that managed to survive the stink cycle. It started out new, shiny and exciting; became old and boring; then guilt inducing and avoid-y; then magically lost its stink and became new and interesting again.

Nearly two years ago I cast on the Twist Pullover by Cecily Glowik MacDonald. I was fevered about this project. Obsessed. I had the good fortune to catch a cold and, while hibernating on the couch, managed to finish knitting it in a matter of days.

Then something happened. I got over my cold. Another shiny project distracted me. The project sat in its bag.

And sat.

And sat some more.

And the longer it sat, the stinkier it became, like a forgotten banana hidden behind the fruit basket. It exuded a miasma of guilt and loneliness. You were mad about me once. You couldn’t get enough of me. Look at my yarn. I’m still as pretty as ever. If only you’d block me and make me up a little you’d see.

It took another obsession project to give me the inspiration and wherewithal to unearth the Twist. It took the Elfe sweater by Astrid Schramm. I cast on this project the day before leaving for my holiday vacation. I finished it in a week.

Finishing this project left me with an exhilarated, drunken feeling of achievement. I returned home, my fingers burning for another quick fix. And that’s when I remembered Twist, rotting away in its little bag.

In no time at all, I had blocked the body and sleeves. And a few days later I finished sewing it up.

Now I’m so excited about it. I don’t know why I waited so long to finish it. I don’t know why it doesn’t stink any more. It just doesn’t.

Isn’t that yarn scrumptious? It’s a merino/cashmere blend  in the Spice Market colorway by Sophie and Me who, sadly, no longer dyes yarn.