It's a terrible feeling to know that you've made a mistake. The sickening realization that sometime was wrong, desperately wrong, hit me just as I was tying in the last loose end of a project I've been putting together for a friend. Three weeks, four skeins of wool, one giant sigh of relief, and then I noticed the space I had left for the baby's face was about the size of a tennis ball. Thankfully, it was an oversight made during the very final stages of hood construction, and thus rectifiable with relatively minimum effort. But when you knit, it's one continuous strand being twisted, looped, and hooked around itself, and the only way to go back is to tug on that beautiful string and watch your world unravel.
I wish I had a kitten who would have made this process boatloads more adorable.