Months and months go by.
The Spearfish socks languish. Other things get gleefully finished, and still the patient Spearfish wait.
The socks are patient: they know their time will come.
And then, one day, it does. The pattern returns from its walk-about, and the socks are restored to their pre-eminence in the knitter's affection. The knitter actually bothers to read the pattern carefully on the
second go round and yet the first sock, lacking whole rows in all three
of the cuff pattern repeats, bears no grudge. The second sock may be longer and adhere to the pattern more faithfully, but it does not punish the knitter for her uneven attentions: it holds out to the bitter end of the skein to leave her with a gentle reminder that socks can break your heart, but not this time.