No, I am not writing a Nancy Drew novel. I am presenting the mysterious tale of my favorite sweater. Which, over last summer, appeared to turn into a food court for moths.
Things were looking grim, until I looked more closely at this.
The sweater, which I bought at a local crafts fair, is an amalgam of a bunch of thrift shop sweaters that the artist recut into one. When I looked closely at the bits and pieces scattered across the top, I thought, "These are bits and pieces scattered across the top. Another word for that is 'patch.'"
So I rummaged through a box of wool squares that I had just been thinking about giving away. My romance with wool quilting was a hot one, but I had broken things off between us awhile back and really didn't see any chance of reconciliation.
But, with a scissors and some wool yarn, the squares became patches.
Patches, meet moth holes.
And now all I have a sweater again.
But here's the mystery. I patched up every last hole the other night and when I took it out, I see new ones. I don't see moths. I don't see holes in any other wool anything of mine. Does anyone know what's going on? I will just keep patching away until someone answers...
