That was a complete bust. I don’t know what happened to yesterday, but clearly the fumes got to me or something.

I spent the better part of the day alternately spinning, plying and attempting to disperse the olfactory nightmare I was generating at the same time. I decided, in my infinite wisdom (I hate myself) that the smart thing to do would be to do all of the spinning and plying and then wash it all at once. (This conclusion was reached after mightily polluting my home for a second time with the second skein. I swear that it’s the fumes. Who does that? ) The smell off of the unwashed skeins and roving last night was enough that we could not eat in the same room with it. (“Mummy? Why does this dinner taste like jet fuel?”) and when I finally came to my senses around 10pm, this is what I had.

Two skeins, washed but still fetid. I thought yesterday that they were ok, but it turns out that they are only ok by comparison. They smell way, way better than the unwashed skeins, but still appalling compared to, say ….the great dancing monkey king rutting with his armpits full of cheese.

Two bobbins full of plyed yarn that I cannot bear to touch since it took me about nineteen handwashes to get the smell of me yesterday enough that I could sleep with myself. (Joe, for the record, said nothing. This is because he is smart and perhaps, a little bit afraid.)

This much roving, unspun. I don’t know what to do.

I think the goat just ripped me off for a day of Christmas knitting. (I cannot believe it. It makes me short of breath to think of it.) Clearly, this roving/yarn/odour from the gates of everlasting fire needs a longer term plan. While I remain confident that one of the de-stinkers from the comments yesterday will work, (the goat will not win) the question remains (and I am really proud of the maturity I am showing here) can it be de-stunk before Christmas, and should I be wasting precious knitting time melting down about it now? I think not. I shall leave it for last, deal with it if there is time and buy the recipient a book if their gift still smells like the six day old crap of wild tree elves a few days before C-day. Let us speak of this no longer. I have already lost an entire day to my own stupidity and I choose to blame the redolent asian goat sent to vex me.

Tonight is the launch, and I have not yet written the speech (Don’t look at me like that. I tried, but there was this goat… ) I’m very, very afraid. Very. Luckily, it’s two weeks until Christmas (sorry, sorry…didn’t mean to freak anybody out. More like three weeks. Definitely.) and that aught to keep the numbers down. There can’t be that many knitters who are willing to take time off knitting to put on pants to come to this thing. This means I’m going to be pretty impressed (and grateful) with anyone who comes, understanding of those who don’t, and that when I melt down, speechless and smelling ever so slightly of mature goat, I shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of very many knitters. (This close to Christmas you have to have to keep your priorities straight. ) I will, by the way…bring some of the pins with me. A donation of $2 or better gets ya one. (Now that the book is done, I’ll be getting back on making the pins out to the rest of you.)

Finally, to make you feel like crap inspire you,

Elizabeth in Callifornia knit my snowdrop shawl pattern. She is sixteen years old.

Clearly, we are all slackers she is destined for great things. Way to go Elizabeth! We’re all really wondering why our own teenagers aren’t knitting shawls proud of you.

I’m going to go try to wash the lingering bouquet of goat off me before the launch, write a speech and if I see you tonight, pardon the twitch. There was this goat…