The Best Kind of Weekend

It all started innocently enough. I went home from the shop Friday afternoon and told myself I ought to wind a second skein of yarn for Da Bears clapotis.

"Self," sez I, "you're probably going to knock out that first skein of Gypsy Girl this weekend. Might as well haul out the swift and winder and wind off the second skein."

So I did. Easy enough.

Then it occurred to me that I still hadn't wound off any skeins for Catherine Parr, and we're casting on for that some time this month. So I wound one pale green and two hunters to get ready for that. Easy enough.

And then disaster struck.

"Hmm," sez I, "Long as you have this contraption set up, might be worth winding whatever else you need for the month. So ... what else do you need for the month?"














Up came the stash bins from the basement. Out came the stash bins from under the bed. Pretty soon, every table in my house was covered in yarn. Living room floor? Covered. Sofas and coffee tables? Covered. Front hall? Covered, and the piano and piano bench too.

I left pathways through the yarn so I could get to the sink for water. Very important to remain hydrated during a major stash dive. It's a highly aerobic sport, y'all. If you love yarn like I do, all that gasping and swooning burns off major calories.

Want a peek?

















This is one of the basement bins. To the left, three mill packs of merino from Stitches this summer. To the right, Cascade 220 in two shades of blue. The exact origins of this stash enhancement are shrouded by the mists of time. I can report that under the 220 was a massive pile of Torino and some green yarn I forgot I owned. Funny how we forget these things.

It's a short hop from the stash bins to the pattern files. And from there, an even shorter hop to delirium and madness.

I wanted to cast on everything. Right. This. Minute. I started searching for needles, hunting for specific patterns, re-reading pattern books that are already as familiar to me as my own fingernails.

I carried yarn with me from room to room, unwilling to part with a current favorite even long enough to make a peanut butter sandwich.

I wound up with a huge pile of books and pattern files next to the bathtub, because you have to have good reading material while you soak, right? And heaven forbid I should walk away from the stash and all its possibilities even long enough to wash my body.

My house looked like an explosion in a knitting factory. It was awful. And wonderful. And a really great weekend.

Some decisions were made, and sanity eventually returned. (ish) My floors are visible again, and most of the stash bins have been returned to their rightful places. And the consequences of this stash dive and winding marathon will be disclosed as the week unfolds. Stay tuned....