Ok, I bet you know this LYS (even if you live somewhere else), it is not just non-crochet friendly, the owner is a dragon and you need a permission slip from your dead great grandmother to buy yarn there, BUT they are the only game in town for certain kinds of yarn. You could drive forty miles to the south, but really is it worth the gas?
Now, I will NOT mention this yarn stores name, but I had to go to said store today (SIGH) to purchase yarn for my son’s sweater, and get some more Sirdar Snuggly Bubbly to finish my neice’s poncho. This was the ONLY store that carried those yarns within a half hour drive of me, and since it was threatening to snow, I sucked it up and went to…the dragon’s lair.
My son came with me, and even though we haven’t been to that shop in two years he remembered the last visit well. “Mom, she scares me.”
“Son, she scares me too. Just be very quiet and stand next to me and we’ll get in and out as fast as we can. I really can’t get the yarn any where else.”
We both took deep breaths, held each other’s hand, and walked into the store, he murmured, “Into the dragon’s lair, Mom”
This made me laugh as I entered which threw the old bat who own’s the place off guard. What? Laughter in her shop? What is that strange sound?
She barked at me “Can I help you?” (Translation: You are a stranger here to steal my yarn)
“Um, no I just came for some Regia…”Look frantically at the shelves, yup still in the same spot, “Here it is! Thanks”
She went to help another customer, and I spotted the Snuggly Bubbly and grabbed four more skeins (so I don’t have to return, maybe I’ll make a matching hat for the poncho)…as she rang me up, she commented on my yarn choice “Hmmm. You like dark colors, huh?”
“Yes I do”
“Harrumphf” (was she channeling my long dead great-great aunt?)
Then I decided to poke the dragon, “Yes, I’m crocheting a sweater for my son.”
“Out of that? You can’t be!”
“Oh sure, it’s washable “
“There’s not enough”
“Nope I have other yarn at home.”
“It won’t match”
“Oh sure it will, I free form.”
Then I handed her a wad of cash, and left the store…
I survived the lair, and so did my son. Hopefully it will be another two years before I have to go back. OR even better maybe I’ll own a friendly yarn store in two years and I won’t ever have to go back.
The things we do for yarn.