Sometimes I wonder if I'm too paranoid about situations and things that can injure me. I've been like this since my long stint working in various ERs treating folks for every kind of accidental injury you can think of, from deeply embedded wood splinters from tree trimming that got infected and ultimately cost them a finger to falls off house roofs while hanging Christmas lights that turned them into paraplegics.
Sorry, I had to slip one in about the holidays, which happen to be a nightmare for any ER.
Here's a ball of yarn I thrifted. I thrift all my yarn, and there's nothing to be afraid of, right? Pink, fluffy, innocent. I could use this with no problem, right?
Nope. Whether accidentally (probably) or on purpose (less likely but scary) someone stuck a sewing needle into the ball of yarn.
A rusty sewing needle. And you wonder why I dislike pink so much, huh? Never a good luck color. I was fortunate that I noticed it sticking out versus getting stuck with it, or I would have had to get my tetanus shot updated.
I have found a few dangerous items in the things I've thrifted. Lots of needles in fabric bundles. A mini straight razor in a sewing box. Drugs -- yes, drugs -- in purses. Ladies, why do you forget the weed and pills you hide in your old purses when you donate them? Anyway, a rusty sewing needle isn't something I've ever worried about finding in a ball of yarn. Now I will add it to the list of things to be careful about in the future. Who knows what someone hid in the next ball or skein of yarn?
As for the rusty needle, I taped it to a piece of scrap cardboard that I folded over it and pinned it to my inspiration board. Danger is inspiring, too -- it inspires paranoid me to be just a little more careful.
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