Apparently, I’ve developed an aversion to sleeves.

Not wearing them, mind you. When it comes to clothes I wear, I am adamantly pro-sleeve. This mainly comes from working in an overly air conditioned office and living in a city where the weather is both chilly and unpredictable. Tank tops, once the great love of my life during DC summers, have been relegated to a drawer, waiting for the handful of days where I can wear them.

Then I get sunburnt and vow once more to love sleeves.

So you see, I am not opposed to sleeves. In fact, I am rather fond of them. Except, it seems, when it comes to actually knitting them. See exhibit A: Mrs. Darcy.

As you can see, Mrs Darcy has been knit all the way up to the sleeves. I finished the body last night and immediately began prowling through my kntiting basket pile of projects for something to work on. That’s when I realized it.

This is the third project I have awaiting sleeves. I am systematically starting projects, knitting up the bodies, then merrily casting them aside to move onto something else. I briefly considered continuing that trend and casting on for another sweater in my queue, but after a quick pep talk, I forced myself to cast on for sleeves.

I don’t know what happened. I don’t consciously dislike sleeves, although by the end I frequently find myself wondering why it is that people insist on having two arms. But there, right in front of me, is the evidence. I do not like sleeves.

I do have options, I suppose. I could move to Florida. Or Hawaii. Those both seem like very tank top friendly places. I could cultivate a love for vests (or people who wear vests). I could consider the value in a knitted straightjacket.

Maybe I’ll just try knitting the sleeves first next time.