Here it is Sunday already.
I spent HOURS (and I mean hours) picking apart a partially knitted tank top that for some insane reason I have agreed to finish for someone else. I sat, graph paper in hand carefully noting each stitch as I picked it apart so that I could duplicate it quadrupilly on each of the four straps of said tank top. Why did I volunteer to do this? I don't know, it makes me want to tear out my hair.