It was a rainy but lively evening, downtown in the city. To escape the downpour, my 12 year old and I hopped on the right train going the wrong way. "This is the end of the line. There is no more." While waiting for the north bound train to become a south bound train, I pulled out my knitting, and my son asked, "Do you have any knitting in that bag that /isn't/ socks?" Sadly, I did not, so I knit, while he did chin-ups on the train overhead bars. I was working on my Regia Surf Color socks, a pair that has been proceeding very slowly, given the amount of Other Obligations I have this month.
I'm doing a nice chevron pattern, but was mid-row when suddenly tragedy struck! My size one bamboo needle snapped off in my hand! Faithful readers may recall a similar tragedy with this very same needle, but I resolved it after only a few days of sorrow. I'm afraid no such resolution is available to me now. It's truly snapped, and as best as I can determine, unrepairable. I have such bad luck with size one needles. My son was very sympathetic, eulogizing the needle dramatically, and then threaded the needle through my hat so I could honour it during the rest of our journey home.