This is not a tall tale. I will not string you along. It is a rather simple story. It spins itself.
Four years ago, I retired and I needed a “hobby”. I decided to explore the art of weaving. As in cloth. As in fabric. As in designing either one of those things.
I have no clue why I chose weaving. I really don’t.
When I started taking lessons, I immediately notice the amount of yarn that was stored in my instructor’s studio. Entire walls were covered in shelving that was covered in plastic bins that were stuffed full of yarn. I promised myself I would purchase only the amount of yarn I needed for the project that was currently being woven. I would NEVER have a “stash”. I would be frugal and neat. I promised myself.
I have only been weaving for 4 years. It that small amount of time I have rearranged my loom room several times. I sold my small loom (which I loved).
I moved in a MUCH larger loom that wouldn’t fit anywhere but the dining area.
That left some room in the original loom room. Of course, there had to be a place for the dogs to rest and for the computer and other accoutrements.
The cubby hole bookcase made sense. I do have books. But then the cubby holes became useful for other projects. I had to purchase some plastic bins. I should have known I was in trouble.
Meet the stash. Well, part of the stash. There are places dark and dreary that hold much more.
The nice thing about having a vehicle with a large storage area is that it can be used as a temporary holding tank. Until I can purchase more plastic bins. That is because I buy yarn whenever I can. After all, I will use it on a project.
You want a yarn? I have thousands. With them I can spin quite a tale.