Everyone said I would love them. That they would help me knit faster, that they were kind to yarn, that they were light and strong and would last forever.

I hate addi turbos.

I do. I really can’t stand them. I knew I would never like them because they looked so cold in the package, and no nice person in California worked them on a lathe, and no one carved them from bone or antler. But the girls said I’d like them, and they are almost always right. So I bought the hype yesterday, and went to the shop to pick up these uber-needles everyone told me I’d love. They lied. The needles make the most grating noise when they touch each other. Nails on a chalkboard, but every second for the length of every long long row. And they’re cold. And they’re coated in nickle, and I know nickle is cruel to my skin, slowly coaxing it off me in flakes and then sheets. But the knitters said that wouldn’t happen with the needles because the yarn is what you really touch. And it hasn’t, but I can hear the little threat whispering out of them with every stitch. And now they’re in my ruana, laughing at me. Shining in that rude rude way. Flaunting thir not-quite-sharp enough but impossible to sharpen tips. Bumping along with those tiny little bumps on the surface that is supposed to be so smooth. I will admit their one strength: the cord is the nicest I’ve found on a circular needle. But that doesn’t make them worth using. I think I will give them to whatever pour soul is willing to knit those beasts out and my sweet, warm, loving rosewood circs back in.

A reblocked Constant Companion, plus a needlecase.

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