I had a wonderful day. Lots of knitting accomplished without a guilty conscience because I caught up on chores. Feeling very proud of myself and went to bed sleepy and excited at the same time, because I now had more time to knit the next day.
A few hours later, and in the middle of a wonderful dream about just finished the gorgeous sweater I wanted to knit…what was that noise! It sounded like a door opening, was that a footstep? But the alarm didn’t go off. Is that another footstep? Is someone in the house? The alarm light is still on. What? Is that another footstep? The intruder must have slippers on. The footsteps are quicker now!
A sharp elbow poke to wake up my husband. With one eye half-open, he mumbled ‘what’s wrong?” “There’s someone in the house, listen—there’s another soft footstep. But they must have overridden the alarm system”.
He’s now fully awake and gives me a look, like you’re one crazy woman. Nevertheless, he gets up and grabs, of all things, his slipper!!! (What does he think; he’s going to overcome an intruder with a soft-soled slipper?) He’s tip-toes down the hall to the foyer (let’s be fancy!!) of our home.
I get up and go the opposite direction into my knitting/sewing room. Oh my!! The closet door has opened itself. I know I made sure it was firmly closed early when I put my last yarn purchase away. Mystery of the open door and soft footstep sound solved!!
My yarn stash has ‘opened’ the door and spilled out onto the floor. And, I don’t mean just a few Woolie Ewe draw-string bags, but SEVERAL; and tumbled onto one another and then out onto the floor. By this time, my imagination is running wild, and I’m thinking the stash is having a contest to see which draw-string bag can land the furthest into the room.
I’m now having a major panic attack. You know how husbands can be about us ‘feeding’ our hobbies. Never mind all the tools bought, just in case this or that breaks and it’ll save the cost of the repairman. Same tools neatly stacked in their boxes in the garage!!!
Quickly, get some of these bags back into the closet. The quicker I toss them in the quicker they fall out. You guessed right. I’m caught in the act, my face is bright red and my mouth is moving, but no words are coming out!! Finally, I give up trying to make wordless explanations!! He’s leaning on the door jamb watching me…at least he’s smiling and trying hard not to laugh…then he goes back to bed. (Wait, that’s an expression of love, oh bliss.)
As I slowly start to pack my yarn away again, I’m finding gorgeous yarn that I had forgotten about. Ooh, this is such a beautiful color, it’s cashmere; it feels so soft. After a few loving caresses and soft endearments whispered to each ball or batch, the yarn is packed away.
Okay, confession time. Confession is good for the soul, so they say…
I AM A YARN HOARDER.
I AM NOT FOOLING ANYONE.
And, I DON’T CARE!!!!!
WRITTEN BY: Jacqui Pierce, Wonderful Knitting Teacher at The Woolie Ewe