The Never-Ending Story of the Sock

I do a few rows, I frog a few rows, I try them on, I set them aside, I pick them up again, I get two inches done, I rip it out past the heel, I try them on again, I do a few rows.

And repeat.

It's like the sock is a metaphor for my life...or the job hunt...or maybe it's just a stupid sock. I can no longer tell.

The sad part is I still like the socks and am thinking of making myself a pair. Apparently, I'm a masochist...or I've lost my short term memory...or I just like socks. Who knows.

And Shannon is a stinker, too. Music meme tomorrow. Tho I don't think there is anyone left to tag...