All Wound Up by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee

Author:Stephanie Pearl-McPhee [Pearl-McPhee, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4494-0208-2
Publisher: Andrews McMeel Publishing LLC
Published: 2011-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

ear Second Wrap Cardigan,

I feel terrible writing this to you, but I have to.

I’m leaving you. Right away. I’m going to ravel your knitting, wind you back into balls, and pass you along to another knitter so that there can be some sort of future for you, because I assure you, there isn’t one here.

I know that you’re going to think this is harsh, and perhaps unfair, and who knows, maybe it is. I just know that I can’t work it out with you. I’ve tried, heaven knows I’ve tried, but all this time we’re spending together is a lie. You’re just not ever going to be a sweater that I like, and I can’t keep knitting on you like that’s not true, because it just gets both of our hopes up that someday there will be a real garment between us, and it’s time that we both admit that’s never going to happen.

I wish I could define the certain something, the thing or the moment that’s coming between us, but the truth is that I just hate your stinking guts. I’ve tried not to hate you, but despite how millions of couples are staying together for the sake of the children, a relationship filled with hate just isn’t something I need to do, because, dude, you’re yarn. Just yarn, and I’ve got lots more where you came from.

If it seems to you like I’ve led you on, I apologize. I know it’s been confusing. I did buy you. I did stand in that yarn shop in New York City on a beautiful spring day, and I did look at you, knit up into that wrap cardigan, and I did say, “Wow, I freakin’ love that sweater.” I did say it. I even remember saying that I thought you would look great with jeans. I know I said it, I know you have witnesses. The thing is, I think maybe I had wine with lunch that day, or maybe I was coming down with something, because now that I have you here in my hands, I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what I saw in you. You’re pretty colors, I give you that, but—and I’m sorry if nobody’s mentioned this to you before—you’re a novelty yarn. I tried to pretend it’s not true, but you are.

You’ve got a big stinking bobble on your strand every thirty centimeters, and I don’t know how to talk about that. I thought when I saw you that the bobbles were interesting. I thought you were funky. I thought you were hip and fun, and I didn’t just overlook your bobbles, standing in that yarn shop, I embraced them. Now that we’ve been together a while, I can’t explain what I was thinking. I am not funky, or hip, and I think jeans and a clean T-shirt should be acceptable clothing for every occasion, and what’s further, I’ve never seen a reason to own more than one bra and four pairs of shoes, and that counts skates.

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