I remember white cotton twine, it came perfectly wound up into a ball. I used it for everything from hanging pictures, wrapping packages, playing with the cat, tying up a roast, to tying up homemade soaps, rugs, upholstery, and whatnot. We used to call it string. Once you got a knot in your string it was really, really difficult to untangle it.
Under the burden of my late father’s loss of leg due to nursing home neglect lawsuit, I feel like a ball of string coming unraveled. No knots yet.
Caption: Coming Unraveled
by Annmarie Throckmorton 2018