I have been working on socks since last Wednesday. They're lovely. The yarn is soft, the colors are pretty, and the lace is turning out lovely. Please see:
Last night I stayed up a little late to finish the heel flap and turn on the second sock. Oh, I was so excited to wear these socks. They made me feel better during a terrible week last week. I was going to wear them often and happily.
However, this morning, as I was getting up, boylethal reaches under the bed and pulls out... that finished sock. What?! I keep my finished sock in the project baggie so I can refer to it as I knit! It was... under the bed. Oh no - that's where the cats take their treasures. Sure enough, he reaches back under, and pulls out this:
Oh, no. They had pulled the entire baggie out of my purse, destroyed the bag, and pulled out the yarn and sock and all my tools inside. Yes, my clicky row counter. My gauge measurer-thingy. My scissors. My stitch markers. ALL strewn all under the bed. And my beautiful second sock, with the lace, and the soft, soft yarn. The ball is ruined. I'm not sure if I can save it yet. There's a break in the yarn - there's a chance one (or both) of them had a little midnight snack on some yarn. So we'll see if they need a vet visit. And worse, even if I can save the yarn, and can save the project... look at what they did to my needles.
It's going to take me a while to get my knitting mojo back.