Now, I do not wish to alarm you. So I shall state this calmly, but with a hint of urgency in my tone:
There has been knitting in these parts.
Lots of knitting. Portable. Cotton. Garter stitch.
I’ve noticed that just once a year, a transformation occurs. What was once a neat arrangement of perfectly serviceable dishcloths…
Mysteriously mutates into a hideous pile of stained and holey rags:
No idea how this happens. One of the great mysteries of the universe, I guess.
So what do I do about it? (aside from calling Neil DeGrasse Tyson to see if he can explain it, that is)
I do the only thing I know how…
Naaw, just kidding. But you knew that. You has a smart.
Betcha saw that coming a mile away.
But wait! There’s more!
Last time I asked Grandma if she was using the dishcloths I’d knitted her, she said “oh they’re too pretty to wash dishes! I use them for doilies.”
If that’s how it’s gonna be, Grandma, then I will make you some ugly dishcloths.
Now USE ‘EM!
(Anybody wanna take bets on if she will ?)