Like Spandex, Crocheting Should Be A Privilege, Not a Right.

I swear, one of these days I am going to literally bust a gut or blow out a sinus loling, rofling, and lmaoing my way through some of the quality crocheted finery I've come across in recent weeks. So much so that I am starting to think I need to come up with an extensive list of what should be, by my infallible estimation, the sacred rules of crafting. And then I am going to go to Kinko's and get it printed out on a high-quality yet moderately-priced kind of cardstock before I staple it to the forehead of anyone who has ever even thought they had any kind of discernible talent whatsoever.

Do you know what rule number one shall be for my new holy list o' rules? Because I do. It shall be, and repeat after me; NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS A COZY. I SWEAR TO GOD, NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE WRAPPED IN A COCOON OF TANGLED YARN, NO MATTER HOW FESTIVELY-COLORED IT IS.

Bottles of hot sauce, for example, do not need a crocheted multi-color sombrero cozy. Even though, I admit, it is kind of awesome.


Bathroom air fresheners, as well, do not need a crocheted wall-eyed-cat-wearing-a-dress cozy. Especially seeing as it is sooo fugly it defeats the purpose of its own existence.


Eggs, on the other hand, eggs definitely need their own crocheted, neon-teal, baby-buggy-shaped cozy. I say, go ahead and make 12, just so none of your eggs feel left out. Hell, make 24 just in case you buy a crate of two dozen in a frenzied moment of wild abandon. Go for it. I dare you.