About how stashes come in many forms



I'm not a resolution-maker. It's just a freak coincidence that I got my "must get the fiber stash organized" jones in January this year.

 

A majority of my fiber stash is located in what some would call my guest room, but I call it my yarn room. This stash is not all yarn, it also consists of future yarn (i.e., fiber of various origins to be spun into yarn at some point in the future). Keeping my fiber stash in the [insert air quotes] guest room poses a problem several times a year, like when my parents visit. They are guests, therefore they occupy the [say it with me] guest room when they visit. This may come as a shock, but all my fiber is not tucked neatly away in colorful bins and boxes. Nope. My fiber is a chaotic jumble that I find quite pleasing. So, when my parents call and drop the "we're thinking of coming to Nashville next month" (they are required to give a 4 week warning) bomb I have to stash the stash. This causes me stress. First of all, I have to pack it all up in bins, boxes and ziploc bags. Then, all of these containers need to go someplace. The closet is already maxed out, not an option. The logical spot is under the daybed. It's pretty amazing how much you can stuff under a twin-sized day bed when the trundle is up and in place. After the fiber is packed up, then comes the anxiety of not being able to access it while my parents are in residence. I carefully plan what should go the furthest under the bed. I am totally serious about this. Here's the issue--what if I need a particular yarn at the precise moment my parents decide to go to bed and I have to wait until morning to retrieve it? I arrange and rearrange. This must be what dogs go through when they bury a bone or ill-gotten treasure. I make sure that the yarn that pleases me the most is the last to go under the bed and the easiest to retrieve, so if I am faced with a crisis I can slip into the room, fondle a bit of yarn and soothe my battered nerves.

 

My parents visited over the holidays and as I was pulling the stash out from under the daybed so I could put the trundle away, I thought this would be the perfect time to organize and maybe cull (just a tiny bit) my fiber stash. It started as many of my projects start--with the utmost enthusiasm. It ended as many of my projects end--with mind-numbing paralysis. The amount of fiber was/is overwhelming and the task I had worked out in my mind was much too ambitious. I intended to photograph and inventory all my fiber products--yarn, future yarn, and works in progress. Inventory as in a spreadsheet (or on Ravelry) complete with date purchased, amount paid, color, lot, yardage. Silly. Stupid. Me.

 

It all went south as I started going through project bags to inventory my works in progress or unfinished objects (UFOs). That's when I started finding knitting needles. Lots and lots of knitting needles. Holy crap! Then it dawned on me. I have a whole other stash that I didn't realize I had--knitting needles.

 

I present my knitting needle stash.

 

These are the big-ass needles. It's ok to only have one needle in a particular size because it's really a broomstick lace needle. So the blue and white needle at the top of the photo is ok by itself. The wooden needles (three from the top) are called swing needles. I'm still not really sure what I would use them for, but the are pretty slick and pointy as hell. The little ball slides from end to end. All these needles reside in a drawer because they are so big and I can't figure out where else to put them.

 

 

Here is my pretty little stoneware crock filled with assorted sizes and colors. The crock is for couples-only. No singles allowed.  

 

 

 



This is the lion's share of my needle stash. I have no idea how many needles I have here. There are plastic needles, aluminum, birch and bamboo. Some are recently purchased others are older than I am. A majority of my straight needles are "rescue needles", meaning they were purchased them from estate sales. When I go to an estate sale and see evidence that a knitter may have once lived there, I will dig through boxes to find and rescue knitting needles. It's a mission of love.

These little sweethearts are the darlings of my needle stash. They are marked as a size 1, but fall somewhere between a 1 and 2. They have a metal core with a clear yellow plastic coating. The tips are a bit shorter and blunter than I would like, but I love the little hearts.

This next photo is not for the weak. These are incomplete sets of double pointed needles. Look if you dare, but don't say I didn't provide adequate warning.

 

Who knows where mates are to these sets. I sure as heck don't. And this is where the paralysis sets in. If I can't find all five size 2 clover bamboo DPNs, it's bad and I have failed. That's just my evil perfectionism bubbling to the surface. Seriously, having these incomplete sets intermingled with my complete sets is causing me anguish. But I can't throw them out because I might come across the missing size 2 clover bamboo DPN....or maybe that's the one my dog ate. So what do I do? How do I organize something that will now be impossible to organize and, at the same time, move forward as a recovering perfectionist?

 

Chris, you're screwed.

 

Oh, s--t. I forgot to take a picture of all my circular needles. See what I mean?