The first sock has the novelty value, the fun of creation as you carefully note down just how many infinite rounds it took to cover your precious little pinkies. There's happiness in that there sock. But for the second one, it's a whole different ball game (take soccer vs football for example). This time you are not faced with a blank page but rather the task of duplicating the endless crosshatches of the first. Whereas 40 rounds seemed a doddle the first time, it is a mindless spiral into oblivion the second. The twirling purples and yellows that once delighted now taunt you mercilessly as they refuse to spin and instead puddle rather distastefully around the ankle.
So you cast on a new pair of socks as a welcome distraction. As it prettily laces down the rapidly elongating sides, the feelings of guilt and remorse for the discarded first born increase until you can bear it no more. Ah but sweet relief! Subways! That thirty minute ride down from Astoria the East Village flies by when fifteen or so rounds are accomplished. Fellow riders talk to you with smiles on their faces since public knitting makes you an easy target for whackos a focus of public scrutiny.
Ah yes, the second sock, a conduit to insanity and fleeting friendship...
*Crappy photo disclaimer: Cell phone 1mp cameras are not the best during thunderstorms but for some unexplained reason my camera remained at home today. Oh wait, that's it, it was displaced by a mulligan...
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