Part I, The Setup
Start to knit some socks. Make them man-sized. Make them boring. Make them so repetitive you consider faking your own death just so you don’t have to finish them. Name them a silly name, just to make yourself finish at least one. Finish that sock, then show it to the husband, telling him how lame and boring the knitting is. Make sure they fit. Then hide the sock away for at least a year, so your husband forgets it exists.
Kill Me With Death Sock the first, photo taken April 3, 2008. Modeled by moi.
Did I mention it helps to have a husband with a memory problem?
Part II, Run Away!
Go on a business trip, preferably right before Valentine’s Day. Dig first sock out of project retirement home and take it along. Knit knit knit on the dumb, boring sock. Get it to oh, about the gusset before you return home. Realize somewhere along the way that hey, these aren’t so bad. Slightly entertaining to knit, at least engaging enough to pass travel time. Then realize it’s probably like the bad movie syndrome.
(You know, the phenomena that occurs when someone tells you that a movie is really bad? And then you see it and think, well, it wasn’t so bad! It was kind of good! That person is so picky. Gosh, you think. But if that same person had told you it was a really good movie beforehand, you’d think it was the worst crap you’d ever seen in your life? You know what I speak of. Case in point the other evening with me and the blub. He watched The Dark Knight while I was at my knitting group last Thursday, and declared the movie the worst piece of crap he’d ever seen in his life. Then I watched it after he went to bed on Saturday. Eh, I thought. Not so bad. Distinctly lacking in plot, though. And the Joker, what about that guy? A scary villain yes, but what the hell was his motive? Sure, he said he wanted to be a agent of chaos or whatever, but why? Nowhere in the damn 2 hour long movie did they say why. It’s like Don John in Much Ado About Nothing. He sets out to break up Hero and Claudio’s wedding and just be a nasty guy in general but for poop’s sake what was his motive? Shakespeare should have known better than that. And now other people are pulling that kind of crap too! I hope you’re happy, Billy boy. Screwing up years of theatrical story-telling with your bad example. ANYway. I’m blathering. Moving on.)
Part III, Reel him in
Upon return from your trip, produce mostly done socks. Husband will declare to the high heavens that they are the most fabulously beautiful hand-knitted socks he has ever seen or ever will see in his life ever and he might as well gouge out his eyes now so he won’t be disappointed looking on a world of cruel hideousness after seeing such a sight.
Be wary, those who look upon me. You may now be unsatisfied with all other knitted items ever.
Apologize to husband about how they’re not quite finished, and tell him just how you slaved to get this (ahem) pair of socks this far. Sit down and continue work on them that very instant. After knitting quietly in the corner like a good, diligent wife for a bit, ask in a small and meek voice where your Valentine’s card is, that he promised to have waiting for you when you got back?
Watch him stammer.
Then sweetly say, that’s okay honey. I don’t need a silly little card. Although it would have been nice. I’m just going to keep knitting your socks. But after I take a break, okay? My hands are getting tired. But all this work is worth it; aren’t these socks just lovely?
Continue in this vein for the next few days, mentioning all along how much you love flowers. (But you might have to knit slowly, especially if your socks are like mine and knit at 7 stitches per inch on a size 2 needle. Lorna’s Laces Shepherd sport (in jeans!) makes for quick sock knitting.)
Finally, after much ado, finish. Show husband the socks. Let him try them on. Listen to him declare all over again that these socks must have descended from the heavens, and that you are an angel incarnate to knit such lovely, lovely things. Smile beatifically. Ask about flowers. Watch him stammer (again) that he just keeps forgetting and he’s so sorry he didn’t get you a Valentine and he will soon.
Say nothing, but remove the socks from his person. For blocking, you say.
Do actually block the socks. Let them dry, then leave them on your desk. (Where he never notices anything ever. I swear, I could leave a purple elephant in a bikini there for a week and he’d never see it.) Let them sit for a few days, waiting for flowers to appear. Continue to wait. Continue to wait.
Part IV, Give up
Give him the *#%@*$@ socks.
Watch him be happy. Take small joy in the fact that he doesn’t want to take them off. Hear him extol the socks for their stretchiness and comfort.
Listen as he praises the simple beauty of the slipped-stitch rib.
Then go out and buy yourself some damn flowers.
Kill Me With Death Socks (Rav me)
Pattern: Slipped stitch rib from Sensational Knitted Socks
Yarn: Lorna’s Laces Shepherd Sport in jeans, 2 skeins
Needle: US 2, I think the larger size (2.5 mm)
Begun: March 24, 2008
Finished: February 22, 2009
And no, I never told him that I started these last year. What, you want me to give all my secrets away?