Remember when I made myself a crochet hook case? I was so proud of it! I loved everything about it, and used it all the time.
I am so depressed. My beloved crochet hook case has gone missing. I had it one day at work, I remember that. I remember putting it in the tote I use to haul my various projects around. I had a few days off, and when I looked for my case about 5 days later, it was gone. Just gone. I have looked everywhere.
I tore apart the house.
I tore apart my car.
I tore apart both my places of work.
I am not so much upset about the case. It was cool, and I was proud that I made it all by my lonesome, but the case was really nothing more than a bit of yarn, elastic, and plastic canvas. Nothing special.
Replacing the hooks isn't a problem. Crochet hooks aren't really all that expensive, and I can just pick up the various sizes as I need them.
What breaks my heart is that these were my Grandmothers' crochet hooks. No, that is not a grammatical error (though I make plenty of those). I got some of the crochet hooks from my mother's mother, and others from my father's mother. So losing these hooks is, in a way, losing my inheritance.
I am so bummed. There aren't even words for how crappy I feel about this.