Friday night we headed out to see Buskers again, this time focusing on Fire Acts since they are more impressive at night (rather boring in day since you can't really see the fire). Since our nights are getting so cool (what is up with that anyway, it's still August for crying out loud!) I wore jeans and my hot pink socks that I laboured so long on.
At some point in the evening my feet got annoyed by my sneakers (they are used to sandals now, my toes seek freedom) so I took them off. The left sock felt odd about the toe...loose if you will.
I looked, and my heart sunk as I discovered this:
A rogue stitch had worked its way free of my toe grafting and was making a break for it. I barely managed to keep my hysteria under wraps. Phil, even though he doesn't really "get it" comforted me and asked if there was any way I could fix it. I said that I hoped so.
Back home, in better lighting I was able to examine the problem better. By now the stitch had really dropped down, creeping its way to the arch of my foot. I used two very small crochet hooks and worked it back up, like so:
Then I sewed the cursed thing back where it was supposed to be, reinforcing the whole lot just to be sure:
I think the surgery went well, the sock doesn't look to bad all things considered:
Sigh. These socks will be the end of me.
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