Thank God I didn't choose to do an afghan!

Last summer (or perhaps even last spring) I saw a pattern for a pretty little scarf, to be worked in pale blue/periwinkle mohair yarn with sequins. 
A perfect color for coworker Phyllis' eyes.
Tiny yarn with tiny sequins. 
On size 7 needles. 
Only thirty stitches per row, and follow the pattern until your skein runs out. 
How hard could that be? one would ask.

Well.
Yesterday I started it. The size 7 needles I chose were pale gray. As the daylight grew dim, the pale blue/periwinkle stitches grew more and more indistinct on the pale gray needles, until I could hardly see, by the light of two lamps, where to K2tog and where to YO. Before I went to bed, I looked to see if I had any better-colored size 7 needles. I had the magnifying glass out and was standing directly underneath the lamp, and my poor tired eyes could not see the sizes embossed on the ends of the blasted needles. It was clear that the pale gray size 7 ones would not do, no matter what, anyway, so I ripped it all (the one inch I'd managed) out and determined to start fresh this morning.
By feel, I chose a pair of emerald green needles before I went to bed. I figured they were size 8 or so. 
So be it.
This morning I could see that the pattern was working out to be a little larger than it was yesterday. That made sense. Except that, in the daylight, I could now see that the green needles are size 6, not 8 . . . so why would the work be larger instead of smaller? Go figure.

The big news is that I can actually see the stitches against the needles; there is a fine level of contrast. It's coming along swimmingly.

None of it matters anyway: it's a scarf and needs not fit any part of the body.
I still wish I'd started it two weeks ago, though.