this past sunday, i stopped in to a craft store to pick up a set of knitting needles. simple, apparently this store caters to babies, because they only had teenie tiny sizes. i need bulk, people. i can barely knit as is. i certainly won't be making any complex miniature lacey items in the near future.
the frustration i felt would normally have been manageable, but it was exacerbated by the abomination of a knitting book by the register. this horror nearly killed me. some of its many (many, many. many.) atrocities:
hunchbacks are the new black.
and now they're stuck that way.
and why are they all wearing leather pants?
didn't bother with pants at all.
the only part of my visit to the store that was good and right was the disembodied head of a pbs star. and there's a phrase you don't get to hear too often.
i heart bob ross.