Double Pointed Needles; or Stilettos, Corsets and Other Instruments of Torture

It is 3:15 in the morning. The joints in my hands are killing me. My beautiful sky blue alpaca yarn is splitting and developing a fuzzy halo, which might be nice once the project is finished, but when you are trying to work stitches it just makes the yarn less manageable, more fickle. It's lace yarn, so once it starts splitting it happens at an infinitesimally tiny degree; if it splits more than once, it's basically gone. I've already threaded 25 beautiful, sparkly, light purple beads onto the yarn, and I don't really want to have to repeat that process.

Goddamn double pointed needles. I hate them.
There, I've said it. I hate double pointed needles. The same person who invented stilettos, corsets and, let's face it, tights, is the same devil who invented double pointed needles. I cannot even get past the first row. I can't. Not to mention the fact that these are size 2 needles, which are only slightly stouter than toothpicks. So I'm basically working with 4 toothpicks, each of which hold about 17 tiny stitches, and I'm trying to work my way around them without poking out my eye. I cannot do it. I admit total and utter defeat.
It should look like this, but it doesn't. I probably should have taken a picture of what mine actually looked like, but mine was a travesty, and I was so quick to rip it up. The thought of memorializing it for all time in a photo was too much for me to handle.

I hate hate hate double pointed needles. Hate them. I hate that I can't beat them. It's like taking an octopus and trying to knit with it's arms, despite the fact that octopus arms, beyond the initial impulse to move, basically like to do their own thing. If you don't believe me, check out what Israeli scientists are studying.
I think double pointed needles are like those arms; they have a mind of their own - a singular mind belonging to the devil himself. And mine don't line up perfectly and make a beautiful little crosshatched box like the one you see above. Mine get all squiggly and flap up and down and side to side and lie parallel to each other, twisting up my stitches. The ones that are left dormant move in front of the current needle I'm trying to work on, as if they are intent on preventing any further stitch work from occurring. There's even one that just likes to stab me int he neck every once in a while, just to make sure I know who's boss. I have the impression that they are in a constant battle for their own freedom, and so the only time they agree to work together is in a unified effort to prevent me from progress.
I. Hate. Them.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not giving up. I will make these beautiful little wristlets if it kills me. I just will not be using double pointed needles. They win. I surrender. I am not the cod, lying in wait for the octopus to grow weak, in order to swoop in, grab a tentacle, and twist until it breaks off. Yeah, they do that. Check out minute 6:20.
I'm clearly very tired when I start talking about octopi (they are fascinating!).
Tomorrow, I will do battle with this pattern using my Magic Loop Method.  Then we will see who has the last laugh.


  1. oh wow do I totally totally get you there....I HATE THEM, I HATE THEM and I have no idea how or why anyone would choose to use these impractical little monsters over just seaming something up later. I don't get it. I like you, refuse to use them.