Friday, March 23, 2007

At any given time, you might come to my apartment and find a strand or two of some yarn that I've been recently working with hanging around outside my front door. Maybe it hitched a ride on the dog's coat/paw (or my own coat/shoes). I leave it there because it's a "Nikki Lives Here" kinda thing.

But I walked outside this morning to find this outside my new neighbor's front door:

And I know it's not mine. A mother knows her children.

This is not my child.

So whose is it? A woman just moved in next door to me and I'm excited about the possibility that she may be a knitter. Right. Next. Door. One who knits so much that her own strands of yarn take over her apartment and end up outside.