So, it probably wasn’t smart of me to take up knitting. Or wait, let me back up. It probably wasn’t smart of my family to get two kittens for Christmas barely a month after I had started knitting. My yarn stayed where I left it for that blissful month, then, after Christmas, I found my yarn strewn around furniture and twisting this way and that around the rooms of our house. Finally, I had the sense to shut my yarn away in a bin with a secure lid. Now they can’t get to my yarn…unless it’s out because I am in the process of knitting something and just set it down and walk away.
Sometimes, we’d wake up and find that our kittens had gone crazy winding the yarn around and we would joke around about how they were probably building a trap for us. This morning was no exception.
I don’t know how I didn’t hear them in my room late last night and early this morning, but this is the damage that was done because of my deep, drugged sleep:
I swear, they’re trying to kill me.