Bad Things Happen When I Go Away

I should have known it was going to be a bad trip, right?  For openers, within minutes of my getting on the first plane, husband sends a series of photos that demonstrate that my months of careful training of the puppy are all going out the window.  Immediately.


He taunted me with photos all week: dog on table, dog on bed, dog in the trash.  I should have known it was going to be a really bad week.  And it was, at least in a knitting way, because this is the last photo we're every going to see of my Ferryboat Mitts, knit in my beloved Plucky Knitter Trusty yarn in Corduroy.


I finished the first mitt and started on the second the night before I left, hence the fabulously bad hotel room lighting photo.  But they were lovely.  I couldn't stop trying them on in progress.

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(Airplane lighting, even worse than hotel room lighting).  

I answered a work-related call in the Atlanta airport as my flight home was boarding.  Typically, I would have had better sense than to combine those two, but it was an important call.  By the time I sat down on the plane, I realized I didn't have my knitting.  A kind stewardess told me I had time to run back and get it. The gate agent wouldn't let me off, but said she would go get it.  Predictably, she came back 30 seconds later, telling me it wasn't there and that I had to get on the plane.

Despite the efforts of some kind Ravelers and other friends to track it down, my knitting is nowhere to be found.  So RIP wonderful mitts that would have kept me warm, along with my favorite copper stitch markers.  Somewhere around gate T3 in the Atlanta airport, my knitting is cold and lonely.  I feel sure it misses me.  And I feel really sad.