In the evening, I went back to my knitting, left in assumed safety on the sofa, and saw two needles and the knitting. . . In two different piles. No where near each other. Oh, the horror!
I couldn't help it. I broke down. The details are a bit fuzzy, but I remember tears, and screams of "this is lace!" There may have been more, I don't remember.
I was still staring at thin yarn and tiny needles when a little boy timidly approached to apologize for touching Mommy's yarn. While I was replacing a couple hundred stitches, he had been gently interrogating the most likely culprits.
The apology didn't put stitches back on the needle, but I appreciate the effort. And I am pleased to announce that the knitting is back on the needles, no worse for wear.
Today, it is all about the return.