The applied i-cord that ate the universe is finished. Its recipient is blocking as we speak, and the heavens are rejoicing.
Although I inherited many delightful things from my mother (ability to read really damn fast, mad bad poetry skills, a knack for libraries, etc.), one of the things I'd rather have passed on is her hatred of finishing knitting projects. By finishing, I mean the actual seaming, blocking, etc. I hate it, and I'm not very good at it. Mum is pretty good at it (reasonably enough, since she's been doing it for like, 50 years at this point), but she foists it off whenever possible.
I might actually take a class. I plan to knit myself a Rogue in the new year (WHEE!) and the yarn store I go to a lot offers one on one finishing technique help, so I might knit up the parts of the sweater and then take a class to help me finish it. Because I don't want to knit up that whole glorious sweater and then wreck it in the finishing. Maybe that can be my Christmas present to myself.
Anyway, it's done, and blocking, and the only other sweater waiting to be finished is Tubey which has NO SEAMS (yay Tubey!) and just needs eighty million ends woven in.
And Pomatomus has less than one repeat left before the toe, and then there's the straight stockinette, and my god, the end is in sight!
And then I just have to wrap everything. Gah.