It’s really not my fault.

Allergies, they are the bad. After spending an entire weekend out in “the wild” without my allergy medicine (I forgot it), I have once again become acquainted with my horrible allergies. When we got home from the game and let the kitten out of his room, he was overjoyed to see us and spent the remainder of the evening running around and being a pest. When it came time for us to go to bed, he ramped up his level of pest and decided to go to bed with us. Of course, his definition of “going to bed” is “I’m going to sit up by your head even though you’re allergic and purr and attack your hair and run away after I get sprayed with the squirt bottle then come back and attack your foot and get sprayed again and oh my god what’s that noise…” These antics continued until I got fed up and moved him back to the computer room, where he could no longer pester us. I’m a mean cat mommy, I know. I’m allergic to cats, and no cat is allowed to sit on my pillow for any reason.

Earlier in the evening, while he was being a pest, he unearthed one of my early sweaters that I’d been trying to deny for about a year. It was my second sweater ever, Grannie Smith, made from Rowan Kidsilk Haze in Drab, a beige color. I was all excited about it, and it was looking very nice, when I sewed together the shoulder and side seams and tried it on. It was then that I discovered that mohair is not a fiber that works for me. It was so itchy. This discovery was interesting, because I’m okay with wool and other “itchy” fibers, so I figured it was a fluke. I stuffed it, half finished, in the bottom of my knitting bag, where it was unearthed by the kitten last night. Of course, I can’t ever frog said sweater, because it is, that’s right, mohair, the grabbiest fiber in the world. So I have a sweater that I can never wear, made of expensive yarn that I can never recover.

Today I joined the new destash blog, destashforcash, for the express purpose of getting rid of the two skeins of Rowan Kidsilk Haze that I have left. I’ll be posting it tomorrow. Please buy it, someone, so I can be rid of my disgrace. As for the sweater, well… It may be destined for the great sweater bin in the sky, unless anyone comes up with a better idea.


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June 2007
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