This Wednesday finds me chained to my desk, totally owning the giant hot mess of emails that are bearing down on me like a wildebeast. It’s only a few days until I leave for Sock Camp, only a few months until Sock Summit, and were I to tell you of the number of emails and the amount of spreadsheets those events land on my desk, you would need reviving with a delicate skein of pale blue laceweight – but that problem is mine and not yours and you really come here for the wool, so let me tell you that if I could buy a Wednesday the way you can buy a vowel on Wheel of Fortune, then I would spend it being way farther along on my fleece washing than I am.
I started yesterday, filling the sink with hot water and dish soap (my fleece scour of choice – I’m horribly low tech) and lock washing a few bits of fleece here and there, mostly while I was on the phone doing businessey things. (I labour under the delusion that while I was standing in front of the sink, carefully washing sheep shite out of fleece and discussing contracts, that it probably sounded like I was cleaning my house, which I wasn’t, and haven’t, but maybe a few people think I was, and that’s sort of good.) I wash a few locks, rinse a few locks, and then pop them inside a folded tea towel and set them on a heat register to dry.
This is the first time I’ve tried drying fleece on the registers of a forced air furnace – until now I had a gravity furnace (which has no fan) and so I had to figure the tea towel trick pretty fast. Until I did, I had wee puffs of wool flying through the air and off the register every time the heat came on- which is pretty frequent, since we’re having a big snow storm. (I don’t want to talk about that.) This works better, results in fewer bits of sheep flotsam littering the house at random intervals – but is considerably less entertaining than locks of wool pretending to be birds.
It is also, in case you were wondering, an innovative way to fill the house with a smell that makes it clear you’re into sheep.