Homeless yarn

In the end, the homeless yarn ended up just getting crammed in the closet before bed last night. Living with your very own stash weasel teaches you (sometimes) not to leave yarn out in the open, unsupervised.

It's a mess, but at least it's a mess behind closed doors, for now. Hopefully tonight I'll be able to muster the energy to deal with making it neater. For someone who purports to like organization, I'm not very good at it.

And, just for the record, that was most certainly NOT my whole stash! Hee. No, what I showed you last night was (most of) the oddballs and remnants in my stash. Most of the real stash lives in my bedroom. It just got a nice new home in a dresser that my lovely husband was discarding. I'll admit, it is smaller than many stashes (no yarn rooms here!) but there's at least 13 pairs of socks, 2 sweaters, 3 shawls worth of yarn up there, plus all the random single balls that I have no idea what I should do with them. So there really is a stash.


Pye would like you to believe that she is decidedly NOT a stash weasel. "If I were a stash weasel, would I sleep instead of molesting Mom's Clapotis that's RIGHT UNDER OVER MY nose?" Don't believe the cute snoozing cat.