I’m sorry. I don’t know what I have done to make you leave me, but I’m sorry. I have looked and looked all over the house and the stash and I am getting seriously freaking pissed with your smartassed silk/merino attitude frustrated with your deception my ability to find you. Do you really think that I’m so stupid that I couldn’t hit sand if I fell off of a camel not determined to make things right?
I know that it was callous to misspell your name yesterday, but in my defense it was technically a typo, not a misspelling since I know how to spell your name but could not have given less of a care about you and your knavish hissy fits overlooked the error. I didn’t think you would take it personally because you are a *&^%$#!!!! INANIMATE OBJECT with no actual feelings a kind and gentle yarn, again, my most sincere apologies.
I really don’t know where you could be. I have turned the stash into a craptastic pile of tangled reeking horror looked through my yarn storage areas, completely trashed the contents of checked the entire linen closet , emptied every single stinking the yarn bin, maniacally torn up re-organized the shelving unit full of yarn and ransacked peeked in every single corner of the house while cursing violently and screeching looking for you. I’m afraid that now I cannot walk through a single room for the piles of shocking detritus I have pulled out of the bowels of this house I have run out of places to look. Despite this, my white hot yarn fury burns with the unabated fieriness of a thousand suns I am still experiencing some feelings of longing for you.
I know for an absolute fact that I bought your miserable wee arse skeins in Maryland. I have witnesses who can confirm your date of purchase and your colour. I have further witnesses who saw you enter this home. Ken himself can verify (though I have not asked him to, I don’t need to validate your deceitful crock of a plan ) that you have actually been seen in the living room of this house. There is no point in hiding any longer, I swear I will find you if I have to torpedo my own home to do it no matter how long it takes because I know you are here.
I cannot possibly think of anywhere else to look. I understand that you are a deviant, scurrilous, ignoble piece of (*&^%$!! crap yarn that I regret buying with every cell of my being a yarn with issues and feelings that need to be considered, but I really want you to come back before I tangle your inane yardage into knots so devastating that you will wish you were felted so I can knit you into a pretty, pretty shawl.
I promise that if you haul your disrespectful two-ply skein back where I can find you come forward, I won’t have to wind your balls so tight that you beg for mercy order other yarn. I know that I can make you so sorry that you pulled this scene on me we can be happy together.