Oh what a tangled web we weave

When first we practice to deceive.  (Sir Walter Scott (Marmion, 1808) 

This is a tangled web, but it's not deception. It's murder.

Murder of those horrible, nasty, HUNGRY moths that ruin knit projects.

The photo is of an unknown number (I don't want to know how many I have knit) of wool, alpaca and silk scarves, wraps and I don't know what-all, sitting in my car, which is sitting in the sun. This is the south. It's hot out, y'all, so this should work, so they say.

They say that if the car temperature reaches 130 degrees for a couple of hours, all of the moths and baby moths and larvae will be DEAD. DEAD. I found a hole of unknown origin in one of my beloved scarves, so this is step one (murder) before step two when I put everything in a space bag for the summer.

Who are they you ask and why do I trust them?  Because they are sources on the interwebs, and so their information must be true. Every one of these items was hand-knit by yours truly, and I would cry and sob if anything happened to them because of those sneaky moths.