OR, how “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” bit me in the a**.Â
I stopped in my LYS yesterday and a couple of newbie knitters were in front of me at the register when I checked out. They were saying things like, “I had no idea I would spend this much! What will my husband say?”Â
Well, of course I had to chime in (rather tongue-in-cheek): “Don’t tell him. What business is it of his anyway? My husband and I have a ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ policy about this kind of thing.” Blah, blah, blah.
As I got in my car, I noticed that my phone was flashing — indicating a missed call. I picked up the phone and my husband was on the phone trying to talk to me. The upshot was, I had accidentally called him (at work no less!) and he was overhearing the whole conversation! He was asking me why I kept saying, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” and, “Where are you — why did you call me and not talk to me??” It was pretty hilarious!
Lest you think my husband is a jerk from whom I have to hide my knitting expenditures, he’s not — he couldn’t care less. He is a very sweet and supportive man, and treats me way too well if you ask me! But it was too ironic and funny!




































