1. Forget how to knit 2 things that are the same size, despite the fact that you’ve been knitting for years and have no trouble knitting multiple matching sized items when you’re knitting them for other people. Develop a plan to avoid Significantly Smaller Second Sock Syndrome by alternating knitting 2 different pairs.
2. Knit sock 1 from pair 2. Have every intention of going back to sock 2 from pair 1.
3. See that Jenny Lawson will be appearing in Minneapolis in like 6 hours. Decide to go. Decide to bring sock 2 from pair 2 instead because it’s simpler to knit.
4. Knit away happily all evening, from cast on to heel turn.
5. Get The Bloggess to hold your sock!
6. Finish this sock in pretty much 2 days. Try on the pair. Take a pretty picture.
7. Try not to admit that the second sock is a half-inch too short in the leg, because really you can live with that. Try even harder to not admit that it’s also a half-inch too short in the foot, because you can’t really ignore that part.
8. Admit it, set the socks aside, think about going back to the Jaywalkers. Decide the heartache is too much and you have to go with the fool-proof option.
9. Cast on new socks 2-at-time style on 1 needle. As the skein is so tangled you have to cut off a good sized bit before you can even cast on, decide that toe-up with a short-row heel is the way to go, because you don’t need to be adding in running out of yarn halfway through to your list of troubles.
10. Knit along happily, knowing that your socks may be short, but they will be the same length, for fucking once.
11. Realize once you’re halfway through the heel of the first sock that you have too many stitches in the heel. Then notice that about an inch and a half back, you somehow moved the last 3*1 rib repeat from the instep to the sole. Swear unceasingly as you rip out the heel, ladder down that one stupid purl stitch and pick it back up correctly, and redistribute your stitches evenly.
12. Partway through the leg, remember why you hate knitting socks this way.
13. Do ridiculous things to try to fix this tangle, including pulling one of the socks off the needles so that you can thread them back through this mess separately and try to undo it all.
14. Realize that you can’t undo it all, but you have now undone several rounds on the sock you pulled off the needle, so your socks won’t be the same length anymore.
15. Cut the yarn, untangle what you can, rejoin, knit until you feel like the sock is probably tall enough and you probably have enough left for Jeny’s Surprisingly Stretchy Bind Off.
16. Bind off! Shift the needle around! Bind off some more! Cut the yarn — look how much of it is left! you planned that so well! — feeling SO DAMN GLAD to be done with these socks! Pull the tail through the last stitch on one sock! Shift the needle around to do the same on the other!
17. REALIZE YOU LEFT HALF THAT SOCK UN-BOUND-OFF AND YOU CUT THE YARN AND FOR FUCK’S SAKE WHY DO THESE SOCKS HATE YOU SO MUCH
18. Take a breath. It’s OK. You can deal with this. Undo that bind off and another round of knitting just to be safe. Redo the stretchy bind off. You’re fine!
19. Get to the last 8 stitches. You are very much not fine, you can feel the end of the yarn trying to slip out of your fingers as you knit. Finish off with a regular bind off and see just how close you cut it here.
20. It doesn’t matter. No one will be able to tell when you’re wearing them. Put them on! They’re so comfy! I mean, sure, one is several rounds longer because you fucked up so much. And maybe the legs are a little loose? And the ankles a smidge tight? But it’s fine! Look at them! They’re beautiful!
21. After wearing them for about 3 minutes: heel nipples.