I am trying my best to make good use of my rigid heddle loom, but this merciless wad of yellow yarn refuses to reveal its free end.
I begin to suspect that this particular skein of yarn was packaged by M.C. Escher and that I will never, ever find its beginning.
I have tried to resolve the problem through liberal application of bad words and phrases, but in the interest of setting a good example (or at least not setting a terrible one) for my children, I had to modify my language and, in so doing, I think I diluted it so much as to render it powerless.
At the peak of my frustration, I vented my feelings by dashing the miserable child of a female dog to the floor with all my strength. It sailed lightly through the air and landed at my feet, making no sound whatsoever.
Yarn is a most unsatisfying adversary.
All is not lost, however. I own scissors and will momentarily return to the field of battle with them. Thunk, they will go, onto the table, blades open and menacing. One of us will be going to pieces.
Once more into the fray!!!