Before leaving the house this morning, I noticed a piece of paper had blown onto our porch. It was a receipt, an old one with a carbon backing. Note the date.
It is not my receipt. That store no longer exists and I never heard of it 25 years ago. The receipt was for an exchange of one skein of yarn, one color number for another.
How odd that it would show up on my porch. Maybe a ghost of knitters past has come to haunt me!