This used to be my favorite sweater but I hadn’t worn it in a few years. When I discovered it hiding in my sweater drawer I decided to wear it out to dinner last night. I put it on and was surprised how short the sleeves were. I couldn’t remember whether they were originally 3/4 length (a stupid style I’ve never understood) or if they just shrunk. The rest of the sweater fit fine so I tried lengthening the sleeves by pulling on them which didn’t create a truly attractive look. One stretched longer and one stretched wider for some reason.
It was a cold night and I figured it would mostly be covered with a jacket so I left it on and went off to dine. Within minutes of leaving the house I started itching. First there was a scratchy tag tickling my side. Then it started feeling like a circus of tiny tickle bugs with little claws were dancing around inside the sweater, tickling me everywhere and driving me crazy. I didn’t want to scratch myself constantly so tried raising and lowering my shoulders which sort of rubbed the sweater against me and was better than doing nothing.
I couldn’t wait to get home. Fortunately, after a short postprandial stroll, my dining companion and I parted ways. I pulled that hideous sweater over my head, put on my pajamas and hung the sweater over my drawing table for its good-bye painting and a little illustration of those pesky (usually invisible) sweater tickle bugs dancing around as they do.
Then I put it in the to-be-donated bag. I’m not sure whether donating it is a kindness or a crime.