Oy

I can't tell you how much I don't want to write this post. I seriously considered not writing it, because this is going to be so embarrassing. And a little horrifying. But not talking about something doesn't make it go away, and I always appreciate it when other people admit that their projects don't all go perfectly all the time; sometimes things grow in The Bad Way (anyone out there read The Tick?).

Yesterday was lovely. Lots of cooking, lots of straightening up of the house. I had most of the cooking done and/or in the oven well before our friends were due to arrive, so I sat down to ply my lovely singles (the Sanguine Gryphon singles, which I finished a few days ago). Our friends came, we had a lovely dinner (turkey, gravy, stuffing, cranberry chutney, mashed potatoes, roasted butternut squash, stuffed cabbage, salad, pecan pie and pumpkin pie with whipped cream, mmmm), with good conversation and a few glasses of nice wine. After all was eaten and dishes were done and everyone had gone home and/or to bed, Rick and I sat down to watch a movie, and I kept plying. I finished plying, even, and skeined the new yarn up on the niddy-noddy. The four ounces came out to 530 yards. About 16-17 wpi. Definitely laceweight (btw, regardless of the way this story turns out, I am very proud of that fact). I was feeling good, although I was worried about the tendency of the yarn to wind back on itself; my fear was that I hadn't put enough ply twist into it to match the singles twist. But I decided to set the twist and see what happened. That done, I hung the skein to dry, weighted by a towel, and toddled off to get ready for bed.

I was brushing my teeth when it hit me. I looked at Rick and I said, "Oh my god. You aren't going to believe what I did to that yarn." And he said, joking, "What, did you ply it the same way you spun it?" And I said, "Why, yes, I did." He laughed. I said again, "Why, yes, I did." And he stared at me. Because, why yes, I flippin' plied that yarn in the same direction that I spun it.

I'm sick to my stomach. It's ruined. Seriously. And I'm so embarrassed. I mean, how did I miss the fact that it didn't feel right as it was plying? (And it didn't.) Why didn't I trust my gut? Why didn't I stop to think, carefully, about what I was doing?

Oy.

I'm going to try to run it back through the wheel the other way, slowly, to see if I can either disentangle the two plies, or even, if I'm slow and careful enough about where the twist goes, re-ply it in the other direction, one foot at a time. I'd ask if anyone out there has ever done something like this, but I'm pretty sure that none of you are this foolish and oblivious, so I won't even go there. I have to wait for it to dry before I can try anything with it in any case.

Meanwhile, I'm going to take my family tidepooling with an old and dear friend and her new baby whom I haven't met yet. And I am going to repeat to myself as many times as it takes:
I am thankful for learning experiences.
I am thankful for learning experiences.
I am thankful for learning experiences.