I may be crazy, but at least I'm only armed with pointy sticks

Now that I've put it out there, unraveling sock #1 to redo the cast on doesn't sound that bad. I want a pair of socks that fit, after all. As a Knitting Olympic challenge, I would have time to reknit. It just seems crazy.

After all, I am no longer a perfectionist. When I was about 12, I was working on a project and couldn't get some little thing right. I was near tears, when my mom came in and laughed at me. Laughed long and hard, as I recall. I was shocked, but its was a kind of revelation. Why was I getting all knotted up about such a little thing?

My mom gave me my foundations in crafting, and her mantra was "no one will ever notice." As a reformed perfectionist, I ask the important corollary: "Will I notice?" It's very freeing to be able to make a choice - without compulsion.

I may choose to reknit sock #1, but I have two balls of lovely blue wool, and an assortment of wonderful sock patterns to choose from - so will I notice one sloppy ribbing, or not?

As for the photo above, Mom was obviously a newlywed in this photo. I don't remember her totin' guns after Bro and I were around. The most dangerous thing I ever saw her brandish was a sewing needle.