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.
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