In the wild, a curmudgeon can be seen in southeastern Michigan residing on a street near Woodward Avenue. In the stories told about the crusty old curmudgeon, it is said it was the Woodward Dream Cruise that drove her to the brink and has caused perpetual surliness. There is no easy access to her street which has dozens of ancient cars blocking all egress. She cannot leave her home to ply her trade in an easy manner. A 10 minute commute under ordinary circumstances has turned into one hour dramatic affair mostly held, not at breakneck speeds, but at a standstill.
The curmudgeon would like the rest of the world to know that she will not tolerate this bullshit for long and at the butt crack of dawn, she plans on piling into her car and driving three hours west of this horrid annual event. Once at her destination, she will spend an obscene amount of money on yarn and fiber.
Yes, it's that time of year again, and this cranky old woman would much rather spend her time with goats, sheep and people who love fiber than stay in town inhaling the fumes only 110 octane fuel can deliver.