So Much for Good Intentions

I find Emma to be smug. That's the italicized Emma as in the novel, not just the non-italicized Emma Woodhouse, who has her own tendencies towards smugness:

Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her ... The real evils, indeed, of Emma's situation were the power of having rather too much her own way, and disposition to think a little too well of herself.

And I, like Emma, had been feeling smug. I've been getting my own way. Other knitters have been complimenting my knitting. I've been giving knitting advice over the phone.

I lay my fault before you now--I have knitted 8.5 out of 11 repeats of the 6-row stitch pattern for the Gentleman's Sock in Railway Stitch. I read the pattern again and realized I wasn't supposed to knit 11 repeats; I was supposed to knit 11 rounds. In other words, I need to rip 40 rows of fingering yarn on size 0 needles.

I doubt Emma would say "fuck," but I sure as hell did.

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Today's fortune cookie: "Seek out the significance of your problem at this time. Try to understand."