You wake up, totter to your computer (for some, this might not be the first step after waking up, but let's all remember that I'm 23; I was raised in the age of computer dependency. If I could have a microchip drip into my arm it might make life a little less twitchy when I'm away from my laptop), and power it up to check your email, you know, just in case someone wrote to you in between the hours of 2:00 and 8:00 AM. You see that you have, as you sometimes do, an email newsletter from your local yarn shop. This could be a missive like any other, but it's not. You can feel it.
Something emanates off of this email. There's a ethereal glow around the from line. Your skin tingles as your mouse's pointer moves to open it. You just know, deep within your knitter's soul, that this email is special. Maybe they've finally gotten the color of Cascade Pastaza that you ordered. Maybe they've received a shipment of rare bone needles, and you are one of the lucky few they've decided to tell before they hit the shelves (though why would they do that? it's not as though you rush to the shop immediately each payday and consider whatever you spent to be a standard, government-withheld "knitter's tax"). Maybe, if you're lucky, they're having one of those delicious tax-free weekends.
Maybe it's something better, but you don't dare get too hopeful.
You open the email, and it's far better than you could have imagined. Your favorite local yarn store, the one that always looks like little pixies have come in to clean and organize and decorate (which must be the case because everyone who works there is always happily knitting in cozy chairs or lovingly fondling the yarn; they're never doing REAL work), is having a sale. An incredible sale. You will get to draw little duckies out of a "duckpond" and they'll be marked with savings. You'll save a minimum of 10% on your entire purchase, and one lucky duck has 100% savings. You could get all your yarn for free. You knew this email was special, but you had no idea just how special.
You keep reading, and it gets better. There will be grab bags. Little, mysterious bags that will contain, this heavenly messenger tells you, a minimum of two times the purchase price worth of goodies. Your heart races with excitement. You're nearly drooling at the thought of grab bags, the little pouches of joy that you first met at the Hello Kitty store in the mall as a child. Back then a $1.00 bag that contained two pencils and a pack of gum was thrilling. But now! Now, the goodies will be knitterly, and presumably worth far more than a dollar!
I hope that I'm not the only lucky knitter out there who has known this exhilaration. If I am, well, then all of you should move to Atlanta and start shopping at Knitch. I got more amazing yarn than I can even catalogue there this weekend. I just have to figure out what to make with all of it. And those grab bags? They were even better than I expected (8 balls of Debbie Bliss silk alpaca for $20.00 kind of good).