On The Move

Being a fiber addict is messy. At one point, there were scraps of stuff covering the floor of my studio and every nook and cranny and closet and storage space were “insulated” with still more of the fiber. I did the noble thing and packed it all up, thinking that it would make the house more marketable and things would go quickly and I could unpack, like a child on Christmas. I packed up a year ago this week. Not that our house has been on the market that long, other life things have gotten in the way. I’ve been trying not to get too twitchy, but darn it, I miss my hobbies. So, in a moment of weakness, I ordered some sock yarn from KnitPicks. I magically found the bin that contained my knitting needles and we are off! Off to where, I’m not sure, but its so nice to have this nice bag of fiber to pet at night. I haven’t actually started anything yet, but its a start, such a nice start.

One thing I had to do while packing was come face to face with the extent of my addiction. I had to gather all of the fabric, notions, needles, yarn, all in one spot. I had fabric stuffed in nearly every room of the house. A small stack here, a larger stack here, some under the bed, some in the closet and we won’t even talk about the laundry room closet, that will be our little secret. I won’t bore you with the number of boxes that are now bulging with fabrics. Its a little embarrassing and I don’t want to be accused of lying.

The most shocking thing was the yarn. I didn’t consider myself to be serious knitter. I enjoy it when I can’t sew and I do like to pet yarn, but I was a seamstress, always a seamstress. I work with a fabric medium. I’m not one of those knitting people. But 4 rubbermaid containers later, I think I may be more of a yarn stasher than I previously realized. Obviously my issues extend past wovens, knits, denim, linen, fleece, french terry, silk, poplin, and twill.