Dear Universe Today I gave my buttons a lovely, foamy bubble bath. I wore pink rubber gloves, they wore nothing *giggle*. After I had soaped them all over, I dried them on a thick fluffy towel, before leaving them to loll (still unclothed) in front of the television.
They were such dirty, dirty buttons, you see. I had to bathe them, honestly. They might have contaminated my other buttons with their dirty dirty dust.
There's lady opened a thrift shop down the road. She has filled large matchboxes with assorted buttons for 25p a box. I've bought eight boxes, that's a lot of buttons. They had spent unspecified number of decades (yup, decades) in a cellar, so they were filthy.
I think I'm breaking Dave.
"Lindsey, why are there buttons in the kitchen sink?"
"Oh! They must have escaped while I was giving them a bath."
"Okay then. Here they are."
Good job he was out tonight. I was felting the bag I knitted last night. I decided to use the bathroom basin because the height is better for my back. I underestimated considerably the number of soap suds caused and the amount of energy required. So I stripped down to my undies.
Talk about knitting domination porn.
Undies, pink rubber gloves, potato masher, bazillions of bubbles. You think the image in your head is bad? I lived it.
This is the bag pre-felting. That is the tip of a handknitted sock. 'New Tricks' is starting, time for me to go and empathise with Brian.
See ya later.