Wherein Bry has a tissy fit. Sort of.

I will admit that I am very competitive. From a very early age, I liked to play cards and board games. And from a very early age my brothers refused to play with me.

"You are a pack rat," they would say, referring to my strategy of literally holding my cards close to my vest and being secretive about what exactly I was plotting.

One moment it was all roses, fun, fun, fun.

And then BAZOOMBA!

"Gin."

BAZOOMBA!

" Four of a kind."

BAZOOMBA!

"I want two hotels and four houses."

This competitiveness has not gone away. GZ can vouch for that as she almost lost an eye one evening during a few rounds of cards.

Over the years, I've learned to handle it. I've learned to mask it. I've learned to not play games.

It turns out, you can lose at knitting, too.

On Friday, GZ and I decided to finally start knitting our hat that we have been talking about for 1000 years. Because we are both dumb at reading knitting "recipes," we enlisted BA to assist. And SE came along to supervise.

All was fine at first. We were happily knitting and purling and increasing and drinking coffee and laughing and joking and mocking.

Then I realized I had pulled the stitch under the row, leaving a hole similar to a drop stitch, but by continuing to knit a few more rows without actually dropping a stitch, there was an inch long hole in the hat. BA tried to fix it by unknitting but the damage was too great.

At the moment we declared the project inoperable, a weight settled on my chest and panic set in as if I had lost the big race; climbed half way up the mountain and broke a leg; failed my final exams all in one moment of epic self-destruction.

Yes, over a knitting project.

I actually excused myself from the table and went to the bathroom to tell myself to my face in the mirror, "You are being unreasonable."

Then I went back to the table and pouted and pulled the project apart.

First, GZ is sitting there happily knitting along. Second, I was running on three hours of sleep and up since 3am. Third, I really hate it when I fail.

After we left, I felt really bad that GZ now had to deal with me being such a tool, but she did an admiral job of cheering me up in the car and by the time I arrived at work the next afternoon, I had started over and caught back up to GZ so that BA can help us with the rest of it today.

I would like to say I learned something from this, but I already know this is a quirk in my personality that I secretly like to think is kind of endearing, but know is really annoying.