I came home tonight worn thin, as is becoming a bit usual. Little did I know.
I felt like working on some lace, which I haven't done in a while. I wanted to work with something delicate, something tender, something with holes in it: precisely how I feel myself.
So I picked up the Lace Leaf Scarf (Rav link), of which I had only worked two inches, tops, and never intended to put down for six months, but you know how it goes. I started it with some lucious, lovely, gorgeous, green, soft-to-the-touch Malabrigo Lace yarn. I dug through the stash to find wherever on earth I'd packed the thing before my move in November, and pulled it out of a plastic bin...
To discover that the knitting was no longer attached to the ball. Funny, I think, I don't remember cutting the yarn.
Then I noticed a little bit more damage.
The obvious is that perhaps a silverfish or moth got to my precious green stuff. I doubt it, because I have scoured other yarn for signs of munchies, and besides, I'm in denial. Just to be safe, I put the ball in a Ziploc bag in the freezer, to kill whatever might have decided to take up residence, but I really don't think it got eaten. Doesn't seem like there's anything missing, just that it's not strong enough to handle a little wrap-around-the-needle-and-leave-me-sitting-for-six-months. You think?
I don't know if I ought to dare use any more of this ball of soft, beautiful yarn. Nicki tells the story of knitting an entire lace stole out of Malabrigo Lace only to stretch it gently with her hands before washing and having the yarn snap at a row near the end.
At least Barack Obama is president now.
(I have a feeling I'll be saying that to myself a lot in the coming months...)