It’s typically right around this time of year. It’s fracking cold outside, and although the days are getting slightly longer it is still dark when I leave the house in the morning and dark when I return in the evening. I see the sun set on the way home and think, “What a beautiful sunset. If it’s wasn’t 9 degrees, I would pull over and snap a few shots.” But it is 9 degrees, and the wind is howling, and I’m just not going to. The refrigerator is empty because I just can’t bring myself to stop at the store, and knitting is woefully ignored because it’s just too cold to do that. (Our TV room is woefully under insulated.) On the upside, I have been reading like a champ, because I can do that under a pile of covers.
But, today I made the decision to stop the damn whining. I pulled out the camera and set to work editing a few shots of the project I quickly knit up last week.
Of course, to finish this little set, I had to stop in the knit shop to grab some size 6 don’s. Which meant that I had to walk past the sale bin. Which meant I had to pick up a couple of skeins of cashmere on sale. Had to.
When I first started knitting about 2 years ago, I read about the stash phenomenon. I heard stories about having so much yarn that it replaces clothing in closets, and paralyzes you from ever possibly putting a dent in it. I though surely I would never fall in this trap. I would buy yarn for a project, knit it, and be done with it.
The basket that I swore would always mark the boundary of the stash has been breached, and there is cashmere and moreno all over the damn place. And it’s just so pretty I can’t knit it until I have the PERFECT project. It’s gross. It even got a little violent when Grace tried to convince me that I should give her some of my stash. I think I replied something like, “You’ll get your hands off a woman’s wool if you know what’s good for you.”