The Guilty Knitter

I had never thought I would see the day, but here I am… knitting egg cozies.
‘Knitting egg cozies is not what I meant to do when I studied at the University of the Arts,’ I murmur while I am struggling with the haircut of a tiny pompom.
‘Yeah well, I was not meant to be an egg cozy,’ yells my leftover sock yarn, making me raise my eyebrows. I guess I am not the only one suspecting egg cozies to be on the lowest rung of the proverbial ladder when it comes to knitting.
The power of emotional blackmail can be overwhelming, even though I try not to give in to both people and yarn. But do you know that feeling when you come downstairs in the morning and all your knitting projects start yelling ‘pick me, pick me,’ when you enter the living room? Bizarrely, I can even hear them yelling in my sleep fighting for my attention. But that is not all…

What did I do?

For a few years we had knitted mushrooms in our front garden, just for the fun of it. It turned out I enjoyed them thoroughly because of the kids from the neighborhood who never failed to make me smile with their comments, not hiding their surprise. Unlike some adults, mind you.
Two months ago, I removed the knitted mushrooms. They were filthy and faded, but unlike before I did not replace them with new ones. Therefore, I was amazed that a young child stopped at our house and started talking to his parent about the mushrooms that were gone. Did I hear that correct? Was I not mistaken that the kid was talking about my knitted objects two months after I cleared them out? My partner told me that he witnessed this several times before. My mushrooms had made an impact, wasn’t it fun and cute? Fun and cute? No, I didn’t feel like that, instead the guilt hit me with enormous force. I know the little boy didn’t pressure me with emotional blackmail, he was just being honest. And I felt bad. Who was I to keep him from enjoying the magical, fairy tale houses of gnomes?

The Return of the Mushrooms

The rest, as they say, is history. Or will be, because I haven’t yet but am about to open my knitting bag. I expect there will be some hysterical behavior trying to get my attention, making me wonder if balls of yarn might be male. Women would never be throwing themselves at someone like that, but don’t let me get sidetracked.
I am thinking of selecting that snob of a sock yarn to knit my next mushroom. Just to teach him a lesson, to show him who is in charge, but I am not one for revenge or retaliation. I won’t be putting the sock yarn out in the cold, Winter weather to humiliate him. I think he should be proud to be made into a mushroom. One that I am sure will be loved.

For those who enjoyed this story, you might want to read these at well: Look who’s talking or The Greasy Spoon.

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This post is also available in: Dutch

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