I have trouble with cozies, crocheted and knitted covers for things that have no need of warmth. I saw this here. I felt my blood pressure rise. Have they no mercy? I am haunted by visions of my future as an increasingly angry old woman, muttering bitterly to herself amidst peeling paint on the front porch, cursing all signs of knitting needles and crochet hooks.
Which turned into this.
Not a crochet hook in sight. Nothing twee, nothing fey. Maybe an approximation of cozying history.
Happy Easter. Happy Passover. Here’s to forgiveness, kindness, redemption. And I guess to Cher’s boobs, if anyone’s in the mood.