There are people in this world who love yarn, and then there are people who love the people who love yarn. It's a complicated relationship.
Last night, as I sat beside my boyfriend, as he played on his X-box, I took a moment to admire the work I had put into a crochet coaster I was just finished making. I had used, lovely, vibrant Kilcarra Aran Tweed in red, trimmed with the charcoal grey. A simple project, but a nice one nonetheless.
Then, I lifted the coaster to my face and took a deep sniff. Aaaah, that's the stuff! Crocheter's crack; Sheepy smell.
The boyfriend happened to look around just as my eyes closed, bliss clearly visible on all the parts of my face not covered with coaster. When I opened my eyes again, I could see his eyebrow was raised and I realised I was being strange.
"It's the smell" I explained. "It's lovely".
His expression clearly showed he didn't think it could possibly be THAT lovely, so I handed the coaster over, and insisted he take a deep whiff. Sniffing it gingerly, he handed it back.
"No, big deep breath... do you detect the dried grassy smell? And a hint of something nutty" I asked, like some sort of yarny connoisseur"...that's called Sheepy Smell. It's lovely"
He obliged, handed it back and commented "I detect something nutty, but it's not the wool..."
Ah, poor normals. The things that have to put up with.