Here is the first full repeat of the pattern for the bathmat. It is a nice windowpane with stockinette and seed stitch, with four panes across. It is supposed to be six panes long. It is also supposed to take two skeins of Morocco. You may notice the very small amount of yarn left in the first skein in the picture. I will be lucky to have 3 repeats of this pattern. True, I did not swatch — that is, I did not make a little piece of knitting with the same yarn and needles to make sure that the size would be right — but I don’t think swatching would have helped in this case.
The obvious solution is to buy more of this yarn. However, it is not available locally, it is expensive for a bathmat, and it didn’t even turn out to be the color I wanted, so I will not be doing that. The entire ensemble also includes facecloths, for which this thing will be too large, but it might make a nice fingertip towel. I don’t know. I am going to complete it, though. It feels smooth and pleasant and shows up the texture very nicely, and no doubt it will be handy for something. Maybe a small bathmat will work just as well as a larger one. I am determined, in any case.
So I took everything out of the master bath and thoroughly scrubbed it, and then put back in only the things that really belonged there. I reworked the color scheme and got things ready for the new bathmat — and it had better appreciate that, let me tell you. I even got my perfectionist husband to help me frame the old poster I have in there.
There are good reasons to have perfectionists help you with things. First, the things they do are done right.
Come to think of it, that’s it. That is an exhaustive list of the reasons to work with perfectionists.
There are reasons not to work with perfectionists. Things take them so much longer, for one thing. While waiting in between my parts of the job of putting the poster into the frame and hanging it, I was able to do all the aforementioned scrubbing. I could have baked a pie, for that matter.
You have to hold your tongue, too. There were many occasions on which I yearned to say things like, “Just hammer the nail in, for the love of Pete!” But all the clips were removed from the frame, and the poster put in evenly, and all the clips reinserted correctly, while turning the thing around for maximum I don’t know what. And the measuring was done from the floor up and from the ceiling down, as well as in from both sides, and several different tools were put into play. I didn’t tell him that I had hammered in a nail with a cell phone just that morning. Some things are better left unsaid.
My husband makes Craftsman tools for a living. His wrenches must be within .003 millimeters of accuracy, if I remember correctly, which I probably do not. I know that it is an unreasonable-sounding number. If I were making wrenches, they would all be slightly different, with interesting variations in color and shape that occurred to me as I was making them. Obviously, I am not suited to making wrenches.
This is also the reason that I just got my car back yesterday. My husband has been fixing it for many weeks. He nearly took it away again so that he could open it back up and wash the things he had fixed (he thought there was a smell, and he didn’t want me to get sick from fumes, which is sweet of him). However, I was firm. There have to be perfectionists in the world so that things get done right, but there also have to be non-perfectionists, so that things get done. Period.