Patience means taking time to learn how to swim before jumping into the deep end of the pool. Researching the picking-up of stitches for button bands before beginning my first-ever button band. The instructions might say ‘200’, but the books say it’s permissible to pick up the number that’s right for me, which is more than that because my row gauge was off (but still an even number to make the 2×2 rib work. I’m not stupid. At least not today.) Patience means spending all my knitting time this morning ripping out the button band I knitted during my knitting time last knight (that’s a real typo :-) for another attempt at a smooth curve rather than a 135° angle across the collarbones. If this one doesn’t work I might try duplicate stitch on the offending corner. Does that still count as patience? If so, I’m glad I was given the ability to learn from experience. It’s much more useful than effortless elegance.
Really, it is.
* Leaving aside those that fate you to fall asleep for ages to be woken by a kiss/the consequences of something much less pleasant
** Didn’t your mother tell you to eat your crusts, they’d make your hair curl? I not only didn’t like breadcrusts, I wanted a shimmering waterfall of straight hair, like Whatshername in Grade Eight. I found the secret – you had to iron it – but my mother wouldn’t let me try.