I never thought I'd say it, but I'm officially tired of knitting. I've started three new projects in the past couple days trying to thrill myself so I think its time to let the needles and yarn take a rest before I end up purchasing enough new needles to start every project I've ever wanted to make.
So I hobbled on up to my studio and started rooting around for something art quilt related. I tend to make baskets and stash them all over the room. They are collections for certain projects of stuff that I think will go good together. So I picked a basket and scooted back downstairs to the sofa and the Dooley dog.
In the basket was these. The plan was to cut them in half so that I could sew them down to the art quilt that I wanted to use them on.
Now its important that you go back to that page and read the whole description. See the part at the bottom that says "Whole cocoons - worm has not been removed."?
I wish they printed that on the package instead of just on the website.
A smarter person may have paused when they heard something rattle inside the cocoon. Or may have even stopped to think that since there were absolutely no holes in this thing, it would stand to reason that the creature that was living inside it would still be residing there. (Only dead.)
So I got set up on the sofa, picked up the cocoons and grabbed my little embroidery scissors. I put on the first season of Project Runway (mom got the DVDs for me to watch, she understands the extreme boredom factor that comes with back injuries as she also has major issues) and settled in to chop away.
Snip, snip, snip.
One cocoon open. On to the next one.
Snip, snip, snip.
I see something fall on my shirt from the corner of my eye. What was that?
What is THAT?!?!?!!?
There, my friends, resting on my belly was an extremely dead, extremely contorted, decaying silk worm.
I did what every rational 32-year-old would do.
I screamed like a little girl, flung the scissors across the room (not sure why I did that, I should have kept them to defend myself in case one of these ugly things had survived somehow), jumped up (as quickly as someone with a back injury can) and fled the room.
I'm not proud. But I don't dig bugs. ANY bug. Don't like 'em. Won't convince me otherwise. And I don't want them ON me, dead or otherwise.
After I regained the ability to breathe, I decided to do the responsible adult thing and dispose of the nasty little things. I armed myself with an entire roll of paper towels (no kleenex for this job, I pulled out the big guns) and headed back over to the sofa. I scooped the nasty thing up while gagging and making gross noises and shoved it in the trash can as quickly as I could. (I've been thankful for the pain medication but even more so for my ability to move quicker in this situation.)
I promptly disposed of the rest of the cocoons and sat on the sofa.
That's when I noticed that there were two cocoons that had been cut open. But I only disposed of one bug.
Then I noticed Dooley sitting at the edge of the coffee table looking at me. I moved around the blanket and pillows and cushions and could not find the corpse.
I looked back and Dooley and he licked his chops.
All I have to say is I am not accepting kisses from him for a couple days.