When I was a young pup–ok, about 34–out shopping with the family, I spied a cable-knit sweater that…ahhh…struck me. I don’t know why exactly, but I needed the sweater. So, being sweetly conniving at that young, tender age, I devised a plan. I told my husband that he would look so great in this sweater-knowing full well that he’d wear it a few times and toss it away and it would ultimately be mine! (Incert evil laughter here). My wicked plan worked…to a point.
Oh he did, indeed, wear it a few times, but he never would toss it. In fact, if I ever mentioned giving it away to the needy–in this case- ME–he would rally around the silly thing and wear it a couple more times, then tuck it away again.
I know what you’re thinking, but no, I couldn’t just ask him for the sweater. Trust me, it wouldn’t have worked. My dreadful deed would have been discovered–the risk was just too great.
Perhaps it was my guilty conscience, but it began to feel like the sweater was…
Well, I came across “the sweater” the other day–in an ancient mending basket. You know the kind that has clothes labeled 4T when your youngest is a senior in high school. Yeah, ancient. Anyway, there was this sweater sitting smugly, just coming apart at the seams and waiting to be rescued.
snip, snip here…
Ha! I thought. I don’t actually feeeel like mending the sweater that has taunted me for 10 years. Why…I…oughta…
snip, snip there…
Now, I have a total of 6 big balls of lovely yarn, just waiting to be magically transformed into something else…