The road to hell is paved with good intentions; that's what my mother always told me. My intentions may have been golden, but this is what happens when you give a pattern, needle, thread and beads to someone who obviously has no talent for beading with tiny beads. Yes, I followed the directions, but somehow, the beads kept getting mixed up in the rows and all of a sudden I had a crease or a dent. Very often, extra beads would sneak into the row or slip out so I had either more or less than I was supposed to and would have to "fix it". Stringing beads is like cutting glass - there is no fudge factor WHATSOEVER!
In my distress, I was ready to quit and cut it apart several times. But my usually exceptionally smart beloved said "No honey, don't stop. Keep going - it'll look much better when it's all done". Everyone is entitled to occasional lapses in judgment - even Anthony. I can't really blame him anyway, since he's refusing to accept the blame for this one. All he said when faced with the poor mangled thing was: "Do another one - practice makes perfect you know". Right. Maybe on his planet.