So the Brit is off at his bimonthly game night. In his absence, I thought I’d wrap up the tax paper wrangling, then do a little quilting in celebration of National Quilting Day.
And then my eyes fell on my Watmire scarf, which had been pulled out of its bag yet again by some enterprising cats. I call it my Watmire scarf because it’s patterned after Watson’s scarf from Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows, but I knitted the bulk of it while bingeing on Longmire. Anyhoo, I was approximately four rows from finishing the damn thing, so I thought, “Ya know, I’m gonna sit down, knock out those rows, and then it’s done except for the weaving in of the ends and the fringe.”
So I sit down, start knitting, and realize that the yarn is sticking oddly to the bamboo knitting needles. And then I sniff and realize why.
Someone, and since she’s the only one who does this I’m pretty damn sure that her name rhymes with Bessica, had decided to pee all over my scarf. Why? Who knows. Maybe she was feeling ignored, maybe Jas had sat on it and she felt like re-establishing her territory, maybe she just felt like peeing on it. Not only that, she also managed to tag the balls of yarn inside the bag. I was admit that a large quantity of profanity was called into use at this moment, and Jessica (shown at right) promptly hightailed it out of the living room because she knew damn well what she’d done.
Swearing steadily, I retired to the bathroom with my reeking scarf, whereupon I finished the damn thing and cast off. It is now soaking in a lingerie bag, along with the peed-upon balls of yarn, in Nature’s Miracle, and I will carefully wash it later and let it hang dry. I know the scarf is salvageable, but if I have to buy three brand new skeins of yarn just to do the damn fringe on this thing, I am turning that cat into slippers. Mark my words.