Let me tell you a story.
It got cold this past winter. Of course it did, I’m in Minnesota. One evening it was so bitterly cold that I put on my most pitiful face and suckered Michael into driving about 45 minutes out of his way to give me a ride home. I didn’t feel guilty then. (I only feel a little guilty now.) I got bundled up in my Cap’s Cap and my Cap’s Mitts over my brand new beautiful blue leather gloves to walk out to his car. Due to the wonders of modern technology, the car got warm and I held my hat in my lap as he drove.
Cue our arrival at my apartment, a mere 20 minutes later. I gathered my many bags and exited the vehicle. I got halfway up the sidewalk and I realized that I didn’t have my hat on. Walked back to the car, checking the sidewalk and parking lot, no hat. Dug under Michael’s passenger seat, no hat. Shrugged it off, went inside, dumped my bags–no hat. No. Hat. He cleaned his car a few weeks after and still no hat.
Several months later, Michael came to pick me up at the bleary-eyed hour of 5:45am. I set my
bag down and blink at him as he propels us to Hopkins High School to set up for Yarnover. When I reach down to grab my bag, I find a packet of Quaker Weight Control Instant Oatmeal, banana bread-flavored. I laugh and ask him about it. “That?” he replies, chuckling. “I thought that was yours. I have no idea where that came from.” Let’s ignore the assumption that I eat Weight Control Instant Oatmeal (asshole) and zero in on the fact that my hat disappeared and, months later, oatmeal appeared.
Logic decrees here that Michael’s car turns abandoned items into sensible breakfast options via a transdimensional wormhole and my hat is gone forever. Weight Control Instant Oatmeal, banana bread-flavored or not, is not an acceptable substitute.
And so now, nearing the end of summer, I cast on for Cap’s Cap number two. I won’t lie to you–every round feels like it’s never going to end. Of course, I’m the kind of knitter to whom 200 stitches is interminable. Part of me wants to just blink and have the hat finished. The part of me that enjoys the process is squishing the double layers of Three Irish Girls Springvale DK and geeking out over the beautiful color distribution. I’ll just make sure not to leave it unattended in Michael’s car this year. I’d hate for it to turn into a single slice of unbuttered toast.