Lana Grossa or Knitting Invaded My Brain

Being around my Knitter initially seemed relatively harmless. I was one step removed, observing the obsession from a safe distance as though it were quarantined within her. I felt safe, immune to it's spread, close enough to see how it worked, but far enough away to remain impartial. It turns out I was dangerously wrong.

There had already been signs that I should have recognised. I'd gradually been picking up the terminology as though by osmosis. It was a gentle process and I didn't realise what was happening at the time. You might even say that it didn't seem wrong that I knew the pros and cons of using bamboo needles as opposed to steel ones. I felt that it was ok to bump into the local dry cleaner in the street and be asked if my Knitter had found a good button shop yet. I even kind of liked how our concierge would sometimes have a parcel for her and tell me he "knew what this would be," as he handed it over. These things seemed fairly innocent and even a little bit fun.

My problem only really dawned on me when we hired someone new at work and on learning that she was called Lana, all I could think of was Lana Grossa. This was a living, breathing human being, but my poor, knitting infected brain could not distinguish her from a ball of yarn.

I hope that treatment is available.

Cheers,
YarnBoy