This morning I packed my bag for work knowing that I'd be heading to knitting group after work. I zipped up my Frankie Says jumper on its KnitPro needles, threw in the pattern and was too lazy to fish out my sock needles. Now, my workplace is the sort of place where you can waltz in with a a project bag and no one lifts an eye brow, so I did just waltz in with my project bag, left it in a secure place and got on with work. Hours later I was leaving for knitting group, dipped in to fish out my project bag and it was .. gone. I spent thirty minutes looking into every little nook and cranny wondering if I had been absent-minded enough to leave it elsewhere. No, it was definitely gone. I started to second-guess myself. Maybe I had forgotten the bag at home, maybe I had just imagined taking the bag with me to work and maybe it was still in Casa Bookish. I called David who looked All The Usual Places but couldn't see anything. Right, I thought, I'll take a detour home, pick up the project bag from its ingenious hiding place and then I will go to knitting group because, obviously, David would not have spotted said project bag even if it were sitting on top of the kitchen counter. I got home, started looking and, no, the knitting bag is definitely gone gone gone.

I am surprisingly upset about this loss. By "upset" I mean "holy crumpet, I'm going to burst into tears any second now and sob hysterically for thirty minutes unless something really uplifting happens in the next fifteen seconds". We are talking half-a-front of a jumper, some Rowan Summer Tweed, my precious KnitPros and the fact that some **** thought it okay to avail him/herself of my private property.

I mean, who the hell steals a half-made jumper?! Oh lowlife, may your tension become wonky, may you lose stitches and may you develop a sudden allergy to all things woolly.

(of course if the project bag suddenly reappears next time I come into work, we will pretend this little interlude never happened)