Improvement?

I finished “unknitting” the sweater I knit last month and that ended up being too big, re-rolled all the yarn and knit an entirely new sweater. New pattern, different size, fresh new beginning. I just finished it, blocked it, sewed most of it together, and added the collar. All that’s remaining is to finish up one sleeve seam (sleeve is sewn in, I just didn’t finish the long seam all the way to the wrist yet), and I have sew on the buttons and then add some loops to close them with.

Just tried it on, and am happy to report it is not too big. Nope. No sir-ee. Not at all. Not too big.
But it also doesn’t fit. Because, you see, it’s just a bit TOO SMALL. And the reason for that is although I took great care to measure me, measure the sweater, test the gauge and all those other good things, I knit it to fit the size I was at when I began, I have since gotten a bit bigger. Not a lot bigger, mind you, but apparently just enough to make this lovely sweater fit a little more snug than it ought to. So the sweater fits, but it only fits me in the past and since I haven’t figured out how to bend time, I’m stuck in the now with a sweater that fits me in the past. And until I can either figure out how to get the sweater to me in the past, or I somehow figure out how to lose the weight I’ve gained (and let’s face it, even though it’s a small amount of weight it’s not going to go away on it’s own and at this stage of the game it might be easier to invent time-travel) I may never get to wear this sweater. And I really don’t think I can bear to unknit this yarn once again.
But at least the problem is new. At least I corrected the whole “knit a sweater that’s too big thing”. That’s some kind of improvement, right?
PS> I feel the need to point out the weight gain is not due to overindulgence (though I’ve been known to do that too ….) but to a very effective anti-thyroid medicine.)

From the mouths of babes …

My landlord came over to install new doors for my kitchen cupboards this morning (which have gone door-less since November, but that’s another story) and he brought his four year old  son with him. He’s a delightfully charming boy (I’m talking about the son, now, not the landlord though he’s nice too) and after watching his dad for a while came to see what I was up to.

I was frogging one sweater which I didn’t like and am repurposing the yarn for another pattern which I think I’ll like much more.
Whatcha doing? the boy asks.
I’m knitting, say I.
Oh, says the boy. What’s it going to be?
Well actually, I reply, I’m taking apart a sweater I knit because I didn’t like it and I’m going to use the yarn to knit another one.
He looks puzzled. He comes closer and taps on the sweater I’m frogging.
Is this the one you don’t like? he asks.
Yep
And what’s this one? now he taps on a sweater back lying beside me.
That’s a new one, one I DO like. See, I’m using this yarn from the sweater I don’t like to make a new sweater that I do like.
He looks closely at the one I’m frogging, which is mostly moss stitch, and looks at the new one which has fancy rib, twisted rib, and cables. Then he nods.
Yes, he says with great approval. This one (tapping the one I’m frogging) is just all this pebbly stuff, but that other one has all those nice lines and stuff. I like looking at the new one.
I smile and nod in agreement.
He steps back and takes a good look at me. So  —  you’re not really knitting then, he declares.
I’m not? I ask, a little surprised.
No, he says. You’re unknitting. When you finish with the pebbly one and then work on this other one, THEN you’ll be knitting again. But right now, you’re just unknitting.