I have a bag of wool. Yes. A real, honest-to-betsey bag of wool. A gal from my hubby's work heard that I knit. And so did what makes perfect sense . . . she sheared her little lambs and now I have a hefty bag of dirty, stinking, manure covered, straw filled bag of wonder and magic.
I'm not even sure where to start. To be completely honest, I'm afraid to touch it. I guess this is where the city girl gets off the train.
Well. I suppose the obvious thing to do would be to clean it as soon as possible. But how, pray tell, does one wash a bag of fleece? It's so. . . . so. . . unclean.
To the internet . . .
. . . stay tuned. . .
ps. my camera is broken. BROKEN. I'm lost in a world with no pictures to post.
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