Yes, the drop into single digits was a bit disconcerting. This, however, makes me feel better: 
I think I made the right decision to rip and reknit it properly. I also added six rounds of plain stockinette after the last round of eyelets which tidies up the appearance considerably. The eyelets are on a 3 stitch repeat, and the lace is a 4 stitch pattern, so they just looked messy in close juxtaposition.
How, you may ask, did I get so much knitting done when I am supposed to be frantically packing? It's like this: The carpet guy came in the morning, and after having a go at all the bedrooms and the stairs, suggested that I have a look at the room that has been my studio, because the "totally washable" bright red paint that my DD secretly dumped out in the back corner under my sewing table where I wouldn't discover it for weeks, did NOT come out of the pale green carpet. After inspecting the damage, I hurried back down the wet stairs in my bare feet, landing without due care and attention on the smooth ceramic tiles at the bottom. Yep. Did not break my tailbone, thankfully, but did turn the ring finger on my right hand into a painful and swollen little sausage.
Curiously, although I am quite limited in the amount of squeezing and lifting I can do with the hand, I can knit without difficulty. (My DH finds this curious too.) In fact, it was very instructive to see just how much of the knitting motion (I knit continental, and pick, rather than wrap) comes from the wrist. I discovered that by being unable to exert any sort of gripping pressure with my right hand, I naturally fell into a significantly more fluid and efficient rhythm. Always a silver lining.......
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Since Juno asked: I am 5'10" and naturally ectomorphic. Not quite so ectomorphic as I was a couple of months ago, though. I developed a love for distance running and heavy weight lifting over the last several years, which had the side benefit of achieving a most satisfactory figure. Unfortunately, with great exertion comes great appetite and the latter did not abate in the slightest when I let the workouts slide to focus on preparations for moving. I am just the teensiest bit sensitive about my newly acquired muffin top, which likely explains my present disinclination to swath my torso in horizontally oriented "vines". All will come right once we move, and perhaps I should just leave the wretched thing until I am once again happy with my shape.
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