In conclusion, a poem:

Steps up to mic, clears throat, says, “A bit of doggerel for your morning.” Reads from phone screen:

I think that I shall never be
So peeved as when my knits think trees
Then comes a growth like all young saplings
Wherein sleeves are neverending
Leaves me sad, for woe betide
The bust line’s now at far low tide.
The sleeves are past my white French tips
And I inside AM TRULY PISSED.
FOR SWATCH, YOU LIAR, YOU HELPED THIS
TO BE AND NOW MY KNIT THINKS, “TREE!”

In conclusion, thank you, and fuck you, damn sweater.

Body went trippingly, though instead of waiting to sew up the hem of the body (and the sleeves) I’m knitting it up as I go along. The hem curls out some, but this is a super-casual sweater, so I’m not worrying about it. I’m well into sleeve number one at the moment and it’s going as easily and quickly as the body. It turns out that I accidentally didn’t cast on quite as much as the number I should have for the sleeves but they’re hyooooge, so that’s not a problem. I’ll just readjust when I go back up for the shoulders, which adjustments I’m already starting today (3/25).