What’s up folks? I am resurrecting this space. My life certainly has changed a lot in the past couple years, but what hasn’t changed is my desire to babble about yarn to strangers.
What’s all gone, you may ask? THESE –
Yup. This was five days ago, and I was innocuously washing all my knit socks for spring and summer storage. As an aside, I actually didn’t wear any of these this winter! I know! And the reason I didn’t do that is because this past year I’ve been going to school full time while also working full time, and it made me want to tear my hair out and sob into my textbooks until they dissolved in a puddly mess of pulp and ink, and then I’d have a great excuse not to do my homework…
Well, anyway. Point is, my socks hadn’t been washed since last winter. So I had to wash these before I could wear them this winter, and that’s a little more than this ragged student could endure. Thus, they sat in my closet and attracted a wee bit of MOTHS until just a few days ago when I was done, gloriously done with school and could turn my attention to everything else that had been sitting in my apartment for the past 8 months.
What did I do with these socks after I set them to soak? I FORGOT ABOUT THEM, AND WENT TO WORK FOR THE WEEKEND. And forgot about them some more… until this afternoon when I caught a whiff of something truly hellish. I discovered, to my horror, that the bin of socks had been sort of pushed behind my papasan and had been languishing there… rotting quietly all the way. If you’ve ever wondered what rotting, waterlogged wool smells like, I can tell you. It smells exactly like dead hair, dirt, and straight up shit.
I emptied the bin of socks into my bathtub and ran water over them, and poured the rest of my bottle of Eucalan on them, along with the rest of a bottle of detergent (not much left in it), and left them there for 20 minutes with the water running. But it was no use. The smell was literally nauseating and that’s the kind of smell that doesn’t come out. Even though I’d washed my hands twice after handling these babies, and even spread them around the tub with a hanger rather than touch them with my bare hands, I still smelled like the inside of a dead sheep’s butthole. It was terrible. I don’t even feel a little bad about taking that tub and dumping it into the dumpster.
And… I won’t lie. It was a teensy bit heartbreaking. I just had to throw away all of my hand knit socks due to a colossal, stupid error on my part. But… you know what? There’s a part of my brain that’s a little excited I get to knit myself an entirely new sock drawer. WITH SOCKS THAT MATCH, NO LESS.
I’ll show you what I’m knitting tomorrow.