I’m in a CLEAN ALL THE THINGS phase at home.
Sweep, vacuum, dust, cough.
I’m de-cluttering as fiercely and quickly as my husband will permit.
- Out go the old snow boots, too small by 1.5 sizes.
- Out go the rock-hard tubes of epoxy and shoe glue.
- Out go the college notes from classes I barely remember taking.
- Out go the VHS tapes, unwatched for nearly a decade.
- Out go the stash of small boxes I never remember to use for wrapping Christmas gifts.
I’ve successfully destashed a goodly portion of my yarn and knitting book collection too. It feels fabulous. But there’s plenty more yarn where that destash came from. In looking at what I decided to keep, I am struck by my own fickleness as a knitter.
A few months ago I was completely addicted to stranded colorwork. Complex, rich, and painterly. Nothing else would do. I acquired a huge assortment of small, single skeins of yarn in fingering and sport weights, confident I would plow through them in a matter of months.
Only now, a few months later, all I want to knit is lace. Ethereal and feminine; insubstantial as cotton candy; full of air and light. Colorwork feels too heavy for me and completely unappealing. The problem is that my current stash cannot support a lace affinity of any considerable length. If this continues, I may have to buy more yarn.
Buy more yarn? Gah! That’s what I’m trying to avoid.
But my muse-cum-troll growls for lace. LAAACE! What can I do but feed it?
Meanwhile, that colorwork stash isn’t going anywhere. I thought about jettisoning some of it, but it is a well-chosen collection. And knowing my muse-troll, it can’t survive long on cotton candy. Sooner or later, it’s going to want something heavy and rich. Sooner or later it’s going to howl for meat.
My stash will be ready.