I just suffered my first bout with yarn fumes.
I got this email and stood, frozen at my computer for a good five minutes, fingers poised, working out how many sweaters that would be and whether or not I wanted to be tied to this much yarn and how long it would be until I could explain another yarn purchase if I did it.
In the end, my internet connection crapped out (something that happens a lot on my laptop) and I took it as a sign.
I confessed my almost-purchase to my husband who said, “And you didn’t get it?”, which set the ball rolling again.
He went out and I obsessed some more. He came back and I said, “Can I spend $190 on yarn?”
The bonus came in recently and he has been frustrated by his own lack of something frivolous to purchase. These things weighed on his mind, I think, and he shot me a muted, “Go.”
I ran, with the sounds of him telling our five year old “Go after her! Stop her!” ringing in my ears…but it was too late. I was (or should be) committed.
I was lightheaded. I could hardly type in my phone number. These are not the dollar figures I normally associate with yarn purchases. I’m not a hoarder. I buy a ball here or there, I buy enough for a sweater if I have one in mind. The last and only time I bought a bag of yarn without a pattern in mind, it was for a black cardigan for myself and I knew that it was inevitable that I would knit it, since the perfect black cardi is my eternal quest.
I checked out before I changed my mind.
Hubbie Instant Messaged “Did you do it?”
“Yup”, I typed.
There was a pause. GoogleTalk informed me that he was typing.
“Now you have to buy something for me,” he said.
And we wonder why we never have any money!