A million years ago, I bought a pretty little sock yarn while on vacation. It looked a little like this in the skein:



Then I wound it into a ball and it looked like vomit.



Devastated, I tossed it into my black hole of sock yarn. More recently I purchased a basic little sock yarn and also tossed it into the blackhole, but to my amazement:



The basic little sock yarn and the vomitrocious sock yarn became friends.

So, I cast on:



My daylight is a little bit lacking, what with the 15 inches of snow expected.

And when I was done with the first sock, my hands seized up in terror because these socks used up a negligible bit of the puke-y sock yarn I needed to make a second sock. Because the very thought of knitting another sock was a bit repulsive.

Which is what you've all been waiting weeks for.

However, sock recipient (Vicious) looked at m with his darling, too long, blond curls and asked when his socks would be done. And I thought it would sound heartless to say "When you start losing all that great hair" (which I predict will be in his mid 20's).

So I finished the second sock. And now I'm done. I never want to knit another sock again.

At least not until after I knit this. Because it's the most useless thing in the world but so friggin awesome.