d'oh!mestic

After finishing off the pair of gloves, I realized two things:
• Oatmeal-colored gloves actually look like carpel tunnel braces;
and
• My hands are friggin’ tiny.

The first one’s pretty self-explanatory. Oatmeal seemed so lovely, so benign at the time. I thought it would make for a lovely contrast with a dark wool coat. And then I remembered I live in New Mexico, where dark wool coats make a single appearance in a season (if we are very, very lucky), but hell, I work in Antarctica 90% of the time, and I thought the gloves would make a nice contrast for whatever shirt I was wearing. And then I wore brace-colored, brace-shaped gloves into the office. All of the warmth, none of the support. Never again.

The second point — I’m not saying that I am a dainty-handed dame in a world full of man-handed mamas, but the gloves were a touch, um, large. They were large on the Capt’n, even. And that was disappointing, because I really did like the idea — and the practice — of the gloves in the day-to-day operations, if not the gloves themselves.

So I started on a new pair. Because I’ve only got seven weeks-ish until Christmas, and that’s loads of time in the grand scheme of things.

And because I cannot leave well enough alone, I knocked the needles down to size fives (3.75 mm) and added an extra row of cabling to the wrists to tighten things up. Worked like a charm. I am now in possession of one fingerless glove which:
• Does not look like a brace;
and
• Fits.

I should have the other one done within the next 24 hours, because I am helpless in OCD’s clutches, and I won’t be able to sleep until I have a matched pair.

I am pathetic.