There was a little yarn accident on Saturday.
The Old Flame and I had to pop into K-Mart to get a digital set top box (cheaper than getting the outside aerial and wiring fixed). We got to within a few metres of the security gate when I spotted it - a trolley half-full of yarn and a sign indicating all balls 10c. I may have leapt like a cheetah on her prey at that moment.
Seconds later, as the balls were flying and I was muttering "wool, ack, ick" the Old Flame caught up with me, took one look and declared he would get a basket. He brought the basket, left again, and returned with a trolley and helped me sort through the piles for the wool. He has a good hand and could tell the wool from the ack without looking at the ball bands.
Time lost all meaning as the yarn frenzy escalated, so not only did I not question what happened next, I immediately complied.
A heavily accented voice murmured urgently in my ear, "Quick, you come with me!" and the woman who belonged to the voice tugged my arm. The Old Flame said "Go, I'll find you" and the next thing I know I'm chasing after the sprinting woman. It did occur to me that this was perhaps a little odd, but by then we were near her destination - the partially denuded faux-Feathers/Ostrich section of the yarn aisle where she began thrusting the garishly printed stuff into my arms. Turns out that although it was marked 70c a ball, the register was charging 10c. She'd already bought 50 balls and was going back for more, but having witnessed the onset of my yarn frenzy, was generously sharing. It took a little while to assure her that as grateful as I was, the yarn was all hers.
The Old Flame found me in the yarn aisle assaying for the Patons Jet and Cleckheaton Vintage Hues (all $3 a ball). Not as cheap as others had got it for on the other side of town, but roughly half price and cheap enough for socks for the Jean Colvin Hospital. Some of the yarn was out of reach so my Old Flame found a large metal trolley, climbed up on it and began tossing down balls of yarn.
Here he is grabbing the last of the Vintage Hues.
And that is how I came to buy 73 balls of yarn this week, more than half of it balls of pure wool for 10c a ball, and how our relationship survived its first yarn frenzy and the post-frenzy gleeful giggles every time I looked at the trolley. I know it wasn't a pretty sight.