She blew in like the west wind. The storm clouds were in her face and lightning flashed in her eyes. I took an involuntary step back from the counter.
“Can I help you today, Mary?” I asked, almost a little afraid of what the answer would be and hoping that it was something that I knew how to do.
She slammed her hand down on the counter. The glass shook. “Show me your wools,” she snarled.
I agreed readily, and then, hoping to make some pleasant conversation and calm the crazy woman down a bit… I foolishly inquired what she was going to knit.
“A fairisle sweater,” she growled, “With people and zig-zags and flowers and all of those kinds of things.”
“Oh,” I said, “That’s sounds really pretty.” I paused and made my fatal mistake, “You’re the first person in the store today who wanted wool. Everyone else is getting all carried away with the summer yarns.”
She tugged on her hair in exasperation, “I KNOW!” she all but yelled, “I want them too. I want them so bad I can almost taste them.”
I was morally obligated at that point to ask why, but, my friends… I was really, really not sure I wanted to know. A knitter who goes crazy in a yarn store can get real ugly. Real fast. Carolyn would not be pleased.
I took a deep breath. “Then why…?”
“Because,” she cried, “I always do this. At the beginning of the winter, I start knitting a wool sweater and it doesn’t get done until summer. And then at the beginning of the summer, I start a summer sweater and it doesn’t get done until WINTER. And I’ve HAD IT!”
Huh. Talk about advanced planning. Impressive, wasn’t it?