Has anybody seen my yarn?

I opened the bag for half a minute
Just to make sure it was really in it . . .

Just a small sort of yarn, a soft red and mauve one
It came from Peru, it wasn’t a bold one

Who in Savannah would know how to knit?
Or in a hot climate, appreciate it?

It must be somewhere. I’ll ask on the Net:
Have you seen some yarn that makes a nice pet?

With apologies to A.A. Milne

I mentioned I had bought some yarn in Savannah, two skeins of Araucania alpaca, hand dyed in purple and red.  After writing about it, I wanted to go take another look at it, but couldn’t quite think where it might be.  Not in my backback.  Not in my suitcase. Not with the traveling sock.  Not with my daughter’s stuff.  Not with the dirty laundry — in fact, not anywhere.  It was last seen (I think . . .) on the bed of the place we stayed, but an email to the management company resulted in no yarn there either.

Now I wasn’t totally wild about it when I bought it.  It was sort of a Be Polite purchase, as I had peeked in every nook and cranny of the store and the owner had given me a nice cold bottle of water.  It was a lovely yarn, with a nice soft twist and a very pretty dye job, but hadn’t leapt up and grabbed me by the throat demanding to be bought.  It was just nice, and reasonably priced, and maybe would be a scarf some day.

And now it’s gone.  Did it feel unappreciated and creep off to find a more attentive home? Is the universe trying to tell me I have too much yarn? Is there some lucky soul in Savannah who now truly believes in the Yarn Fairy?