We are going to start with the bad news first, because I prefer to end on an up note.
On Dec. 30, my Summer’s End was renamed Sweater’s End. It went from That:
I must confess, I almost cried. My husband and I teamed up on this one. I put it in the washer on delicate with the rest of the laundry. I asked Husband to please put the stuff from the washer into the dryer while I went out. He usually sorts out what should NOT go into the dryer, and honestly, I forgot this sweater was in the washer, so I didn’t request special treatment for it. When I got home, I picked up the pile of dry laundry to carry upstairs, and this was on top. I gasped.
What. On. Earth? Ok, I really didn’t say “On Earth.” There were other words there instead. After I resumed breathing I calmed down enough to realize, I can’t say for sure that at least some of the damage wasn’t done in the washer. I don’t know what I was thinking when I tumbled it in with the rest of the dirty clothes to begin with. I should have handwashed it. I know I was in a hurry because we were leaving the next morning for Chicago and we needed clean clothes for packing.
I also know that the previous day, as soon as I used up all the gin making a Tanqueray and Tonic, Darling Child did a Whirling Dervish move in the kitchen, spilling my drink everywhere, including on my Summer’s End before I even had one sip. Did I mention there was no more gin in the house? Now I needed a drink more than ever. And I knew I had to wash that sweater. Even then, I had this bad inkling, a spidey sense somehow that this was the ruin of my sweater.
I get feelings like that from time to time. Like the time a few years ago when I was standing in the basement and told myself, I’m just gonna put these boxes up on a high shelf in case the basement ever floods. No lie, the basement flooded three days later. I don’t know what possessed me to move that stuff, because our basement had only had water in it once in 12 years, and only a tiny puddle in one small area. But whatever the case, we had two full inches of water in the entire basement, which ruined only the icky indoor-outdoor carpet and one box of grade school mementos belonging to our son. (I mourned those for approximately three minutes, until I reminded myself that elementary school was a complete shit sandwich from start to end for him and us. I threw everything in the trash and thought, “good riddance.” Who needs to be reminded of a crappy era in their past?)
So, you would think I would trust my spidey sense regarding the washing of my sweater. It’s over now. I am moving on.
I haven’t decided if I will make a replacement. I got many, many unsolicited compliments whenever I wore this, but it never quite fit well. It needs a minor neck redesign. Also, I gained 10 pounds, which made the sweater a little tight. I probably would add long sleeves too…. see, it wasn’t SO awful that it’s gone.
Now is happy time. Finally, finally, That:
turned into This:
It is the Dahlia cardigan. I even got all the ends woven in today. I am going to wear it tomorrow!
Aren’t you glad we ended on a good note? I am.