We got in the car the other day and noticed that there was a flare of tiny little Kleenex particles all around the box we keep on the back seat. After some discussion, we concluded it was caused by a mouse but since we were in the dark and had some driving to do before we got out of the car and then some more driving to do before we arrived home, by silent mutual agreement we pretended we had not any idea of how it happened.
     After about 5 more miles, I said, "I know what it could have been," I explained how I had switched cars with HMH's husband and he had retrieved Sissy Dog from her house and taken the wee doggy for a ride. "She probably dug around in the Kleenexes while she was riding around in the car." Even while I said that, I knew I had not seen the spate of paper all over the upholstery when we got into the car just twenty minutes earlier.
     The next day, my Dearest totally cleaned out the car. In the driveway he pitched out the now-vacant rodent lounge--the contents of the Kleenex box completely shredded. Intermixed were several recognizable pieces of yarn. Blue from my most recent project, emerald from a project I had long ago ripped back, washed, dried and reskeined to await a different inspiration, little bits of purples and pinks from Christmas projects, in short, any knitting I had ever done was chronicled in this lump of tissues.
     "Did you see the Kleenex?"
     "Yes. Is that the whole box?"
     "Pretty much. Did you see the tiny sweaters they knit?"
I had to laugh at that. The next time we got in the car, it was completely free of leaves and sticks, Kleenex and yarn or whatever detritus blows in when the doors are opened or whatever projects or necessities we carry with us. Thoroughly vacuumed, it was ours alone, again. So we thought.

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