However, there is a major problem with knitting with double-pointed needles. Sofas eat them. Needles go through the whole digestive tract of the couch and are dropped out the bottom. (That's all the illustration you need for that.) It just amazes. I am knitting away in my comfortable blue recliner, watching Peyton Manning throw this ump-teenth pass (yes, I am a big football fan), or the bumbling detective and his brilliant girlfriend solve another murder. My cat Neko is gracing me with his presence in my lap trying to steal all the warmth from my afghan. I finished the stitches on one needle and pause to watch the replay (that was too interference! bad call by the refs), and just as the next beer commercial starts, I look down at my knitting --- and a needle has disappeared! How can that be? I feel around for it and it is gone. I didn't move! I can only figure that the arm of the sofa reached up and took it out of my hand.
And the sofa is not done playing tricks on me yet.
Sometimes -- if I'm lucky -- I find it in the folds of the afghan. I figure that the needle got caught while being swallowed and was saved.
Sometimes -- if I'm lucky -- I find it stuck behind my ear. I know I didn't put it there.
Sometimes -- if I'm lucky -- I find it between the cushions of the couch. As I grab it from the void, I swear I can hear the couch choke and cough.
But most of the time, it's gone. Success on the part of the sofa. So I have to put my knitting down careful not to lose another needle or stick myself with the three remaining points, kick the foot rest down and disturb my disturb my precious sleeping cat (who is not that crazy about me anyway), and crawl under the couch to retrieve it. I get my hair caught on the corner and I have stop to pull each strand away individually. Neko is now sitting on the back of the sofa looking down at me sticking his tongue out. I know he is laughing.
Got it. Back to the needles.