Sweater Trauma

It's me, Jacob! Remember me? I used to post things sometimes. Well, Christine's been on me about my lack of contribution to the blog (I was avoiding going to it to even read Christine's posts because I knew I'd feel guilty about not posting... maybe I'll talk about this negative personality trait in another self-deprecating blog post later!), and now is when I'm finally getting around to posting again!

So blogs are supposed to be about our lives, right? And if something traumatic happened to me, I should write about it... right?

Okay. Here it goes.

First of all, some background: I am an avid knitter. Even more so than that, I am addicted to yarn, but that is also another story for another blog post. Anyway, I often go to thrift shops and rummage through the sweaters (yes, both men's and women's) to find a sweater to rip apart for yarn since it's often cheaper to get good fibers that way.

So this morning, my domestic partner (jk he's just my roommate) Twitchy and I went to a couple thrift stores, me to fuel my yarn addiction and him to fuel his flannel button-up addiction. At the second and final thrift shop, after me finding no good sweaters to rip apart (and Twitchy finding six flannel button-ups) I happened upon three things: First, I found a nice bear-shaped glass jar, which I bought because it was dirt cheap and I wanted to put honey in it. Second, I found an old interchangeable knitting needle set, which was neat and knitting-related, so I bought it. And finally, I found a wonderful 100% merino wool argyle sweater. It was beautiful. I was like...

The fibers used to make it weren't large enough to warrant ripping it apart for yarn, but it just happened to fit me perfectly, and I've been wanting some classy sweaters so I was like why not... after all, it was only $4.50.

So yes, I had just bought an awesome sweater that I was super pumped about. I was on cloud nine, high off merino fumes, and I was loving it.

But of course... all good things have to end eventually.

I went over to my parents' house that same afternoon, partially for free food, partially for family, partially to show off my snazzy new threads. After I flaunted my thrift shop find in front of my parents, they suggested I wash it (which hadn't really occurred to me, for some reason). I agreed that it would probably be a good idea.

So there's that fun little tag on the inside of sweaters an shirts that tells you what way to wash it... the one for this particular sweater said "hand wash in cold water only," but I always took those as suggestions and figured that as long as you machine wash on gentle in cold water and let it air dry, nothing too bad will happen. Well, I was wrong.

After a short but disastrous forty minutes, my new(ish) sweater had, like, five holes in it, and I was devastated. It was like there was a sweater-shaped hole in my chest. Something I never knew I needed happened upon me, and just as quickly slipped from my grasp.

I will never get that $4.50 back, and as a result, it may be a while until I learn how to trust again.

-Jacob