The yarn called to me from its captive perch on the shelf.
‘Stephanie, buy me. You know you want me. Go on. What’s one little skein?’
It certainly was visually fetching and the feel…like butta. I knew it would make the perfect scarf.
Looking back, I should’ve realized the eerie similarities between the yarn and Eve’s apple because I swear that skein was just about the downfall of my nascent crocheting career. Satan made this yarn. I couldn’t stitch it up fast enough; it’s a wonder I didn’t scorch my fingertips in my haste to reach the bitter end of what wound up becoming known as the Mardi Gras scarf.
Even Lulu sensed the work of demonic hands in this stuff. Or maybe it was that slightly hysterical glint in my eye. Bad yarn can make any girl a little cray-cray.
But, I persevered and have a smashingly obnoxious scarf to show for it.
Now, I’m off to exorcise the demons.