No matter, my new system is so good, all I had to do was pick up those shoes and slide them into their slots. I don't appreciate being everyone's maid; but for the sake of a closet that inspires joy, I'll do it. That, plus I dock allowances.
Hey, I'm not a saint, okay?
Yesterday my friends and I attended a fiber festival. "A what?" asked the neighbor I walk with each morning. I forget that, in most circles, "fiber festival" means nothing. "A fiber festival," I told her. "You know, there are sheep and alpacas and people who shear them, and people who spin the wool into yarn and sell it, and people who dye the yarn and sell it...oh, and there are celebrities! We met the Sweater Guy!"
"Is that what he's called?" she asked, trying to follow.
"Um, I think so. That's what we called him, anyway." But then I wasn't sure, myself; I mean, can there be only one Sweater Guy? So I went home and Googled "the sweater guy," and sure enough, I found him. The fiber world loves its monikers, apparently. I didn't even try explaining the Yarn Harlot to her.
|Incipient shawl/scarf thingy|
|These go together, in a weird sort of way...|
Oh, and also a felted dryer ball, because I already had one, but it turns out that you really need more than one to make your clothes soft and fluffy. Supposedly you use them instead of dryer sheets? I don't use dryer sheets, though, so I'm not sure what I am to expect.
I explained all this to Larry and he was totally looking at me like, "Wow, they saw you coming, all right." I'll show him, once the children start exclaiming how soft their towels feel (I imagine like those kids in 70s Downy commercials, if I'm recalling correctly).