Dad brought home some wool

yesterday, three large hanks of hand-dyed wool and said, "Carolyn gave me this for you." I do not know Carolyn but she turns out to be wife of the newish Anglican priest at St Michael's up on the hill. She knows I knit. She apparently bought the wool herself and then decided that she did not have time to knit. Why should she think I have time to knit?
This is the curious thing about working from home. People think you do not work. They think you have all the time in the world to do whatever they want. Writing is not work either so I have to sneak in blog posts between licking my fur, cleaning my paws and the surfaces on which they move as well as getting meals etc. I am not in the least bit interested in housework. I do the minimum to make the place clean. It is not tidy. We are not tidy people. We feel comfortable the way we are. I have other things to do.
But, the knitting wool is nice colours. They are not colours I will wear but that is beside the point because, after all, the yarn does not really belong to me. It may have been a gift but the reality is that it is intended to be knitted up and returned in some form to the church. I don't mind too much. Church is not my thing. I agree with the principles but not the theatrical performances. Nevertheless I can perhaps be persuaded to make a prayer shawl or, as I would call it, comfort shawl out of the yarn. I'll wait and see what this Carolyn says - if she responds to the e-mail I left for her husband. After all, I do not know her - yet.