I'll tell you something about what you see on the left here. It's a knitting scissors now falling apart. It's beyond help or repair. Besides it's covered in white paint from a long forgotten project. It bites back at me every time I try to use it.
BUT I keep it in a jar beside my knitting table.
In my knitting basket there are two fairly new scissors but they hide under balls and hanks of wool.
The yellowish one up there I use, well, sorry, use is a fairly strong term.
I haul it out and hack at yarn that needs to be cut or packages that need opening or at loose threads. The points on it are worn off, saying it has dull edges would be a euphemism.
Hack. Because the effing thing doesn't work. At all.
But I keep trying. I have perfectly wonderful scissors up in the craft room and under aforesaid wool in the knitting basket.
And then, when all the above fails after an intense workout by me, I hunt for a working scissors.
See, there's life in Old Yeller.
If only I could find it.
(Similar stories, anyone?)
And gawd, it's painful, but I'm tossing OY today.
