Dear Fed,
2024 was gonna be MY year. My year to learn how to crochet little tops like all the cool girls on campus, that is. So as part of my New Year’s resolution, I went to my local suburban Michaels. I blasted the Barbie soundtrack on the way there, and I was ready to become my truest, yarn-iest self.
I have now been stuck in the middle of a giant mountain of yarn (some may say loophole) in the back of the yarn section for 34 hours. None of the store associates have noticed me, probably because the yarn blocks out all the light here. I thought I was being slick, looking in the last aisle for sick yarn no one else would have. I was not. The yarn grabbed me, ensnared me like a Venus flytrap.
Please send help. I have been eating natural yarn fibers for nutrients. The future looks grim. And itchy.
