I've lost my mojo

First, I lost half a skein of yarn to tangles. And I dropped 6 stitches about 5 rows down on the sock I was working on (still sitting waiting for me to fix or give up). Then the hat I crocheted for my Girl was small enough to fit her Cabbage Patch doll. Now this:

It's a skinny scarf made of recycled sari silk held together with a navy blue acrylic. I figured the navy yarn would tone down the loudness of the silk, while stabilizing the too-thin spots in the yarn. In my head, it would be a fun accessory when I'm wearing a plain outfit. I'd look quite artsy fartsy in it.

Nope.

Instead, it weighs 4.3 metric tonnes, curls in spite of the garter stitch edge, and the worst part is where I went to the second skein:

One end looks a little like my original vision. The other end looks like a pile of neon dryer lint. It is hideous. So now I have to decide the fate of this travesty of knits. Do I attempt to fix it (but HOW?), or do I sew it up, stuff it, put googly eyes on it and call it a fuzzy snake? Le sigh.

To top all of this off, I have been driving Nora to school because the little guy's stroller lost a wheel last week. I think it's fixable, but I haven't gotten around to it yet. This morning, I got the kids strapped into their seats, insert the key into the ignition, turn, and hear a deafening silence. Not even a sad click. Battery is d-e-d dead. No choice but to try to fix the stroller in the 30-degree garage. I fiddled with it for a few minutes, then realized that my fingers would freeze and Nora would be tardy to school long before I figured out the fix. So I picked up the Nige and off we went. Thanks to the snow covering everyone's sidewalks, we had to walk in the street amidst the school buses, high schoolers speeding to school, and a garbage truck.

We made it to school in time, and when I got back home I plugged the car into the charger, wheeled the stroller into the family room, and sat down here to warm up. Now I'm warm, so I need to go work on the stroller. Or maybe just ignore it and let Mr. Deplume cuss at it when he gets home. Yeah, that sounds like a better plan (sorry, Honey).