This came in the mail today:
Don't even ask what prompted this. I've always said that I have enough yarn in this house to last the rest of my life and then some. I certainly don't need to make my own.
Yet, there it is. I made yarn.
It's the crappiest yarn in the world, it gives new meaning to the term "thick and thin", yet, yet. There it is. I made yarn.
I've gone to the Dark Side at last. Wouldn't that back yard look nice with some sheep?