Friday, August 03, 2007

It’s not me, it’s the stash

I am trying to get organized. Really.

Somehow my home exploded into abject disarray shortly after Christmas. It took me a long time to put the holiday decorations away and in the midst of this, decided to start organizing my closets, drawers and storage spaces. For a single person, I sure have accumulated a lot of stuff.

I’ve had a Fung Shei specialist in—while there have been no dramatic changes in my life, I have to admit the modest changes she suggested make sense in terms of funtionality, so I thought cleaning up would enhance my chi. However, as I embarked on this, I was unaware of the domino effect that ensues—moving anything anywhere requires me to move something else somewhere else.

Yes, I know, pruning would be a good idea...the whole house needs to be pruned, really, but that’s so taxing…and I like my stuff.

One of the benefits of this ongoing exercise has been a good look at my stash. It’s big. A little bigger than I thought. But almost everything in my stash is destined to become a specific project—I’m not hoarding anything just because I liked the yarn or just wanted it or it was on sale and I couldn’t pass it up.

I do have some fiber choices I’m not so hot on either because the reality of it doesn’t live up to my expectations in terms of stitch definition, general look and feel or the degree of difficulty in knitting it—they will be donated to a craft program as soon as school begins again. I know of one through my New York Sit and Knit group.

I’ve found projects I’d forgotten about completely and projects that the recipient has already outgrown even though I haven’t cast on a single stitch and there are projects I have to rethink because I’ve read ladies with figure types like mine should not wear bulky knit. Some of these can be repurposed and some require more thought.

Meanwhile, there are large Rubbermaid boxes lining the walls of my bedroom. I periodically lift the lids and admire the contents, petting some of the more luxurious fibers. Lucy, my other cat (that's her nesting on my bed), watches carefully for me to neglect to replace the top so she can steal a ball of yarn and completely unravel it. Isn’t it interesting how we all get some kind of pleasure from a single skein?

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