Sara, be proud of me (us)

I am shaking. I can barely breathe. I have disturbed the dust of ages, and debris from ancient stores of mohair, angora and camel coats my mouth, nose, sinuses.

We have been clearing out the stash. Chaos reigns.





I spoke about what the plan was to the DSM several times, very slowly and clearly. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be unkind, but this was the sort of enterprise where long-term partners of the male persuasion tend to go very deaf, and extremely nasty incidents can occur. I really did not want that to happen, this was going to be stressful enough as it was. It worked, we have survived, and the stash has been reduced by maybe as much as 50%.

I was RUTHLESS.

We have been meaning to do this for ages, and the final spur has been the Guild announcing a sale day next Saturday. Some stuff that has been removed is perfectly usable, but not by me. So a couple of bags will be going there. I have lost count of the number of bags that are going to the tip. Some fibres don't keep well - they tend to compost. Angora (which I loathe, why is it in my stash in the first place?) compacts into thick boards. So, sadly, does cashmere, but not much of any real worth went. A lot of stuff went because it had become the casualty of teaching. I sort out examples of fibre to teach a class around, and by the time I have samples, the class have looked and played, it has travelled back and forth a bit - well, it is all a mess. Ba-boom - byebye.

I also have chucked sackfuls of spun yarn. Handspun. I looked at it, and thought - just whythef...did I ever do that? No way in about ten million years was I ever going to use it, and I couldn't think who would. Not even any good for charity knitting as it wouldn't go through the washing machine. (Some proofs of that bit the dust, also.)

I can't pretend that it hasn't been stressful. Your own handspun yarn, no matter how ghastly, is always just a little bit precious. But I do feel liberated. All that detritus has been holding me back. Now I can plan new projects without the guilt of all that archeology dragging around my ankles (pity other aspects of our histories can't be treated in the same way.)

And great plusses - enough very nice natural coloured yarn for at least two sweaters arose from the depths. A whole pile of weavette woven squares, enough to make a bag, that I had been looking for for ages likewise. Lots of delicious fibre, much of it that I had forgotten all about, projects galore there. (But just why we have so much cotton, I can't pretend to understand.)

And a cute little felted bag I had forgotten all about - I am sure I can do something with this. Can't have too many little bags, anyway.......