I can't go downstairs to get the camera because when I came upstairs, I told Joe I was coming upstairs to clean my office (which is a serious clutter bomb) and I was cleaning the office. I started in the corner that has the upstairs stash (that is no longer a stash.) These boxes here:
Well, oddly enough, I decided to go through the boxes to see what could be consolidated now that it wasn't a stash and therefore didn't need to be organized I am more willing to take a look at it.You see in the photograph five garment boxes and a big storage box. If I had a camera upstairs (note to self, stick a digital camera upstairs) and if I took a photo and placed it here - you would see only three garment boxes and a big storage box.
The stash that is not a stash has shrunk!
I have comfortably consolidated yarn that it left me with two empty boxes! This is the cosmos taking immense pity on me and saying: "Dear child, we know you are trying your best so we will give you a hand here."
I know what you're thinking, but no, I am not going to fill these boxes with new yarn procurements. There are enough loose skeins on the other floor that can fill them, but I am not going to fill them with yarn at all. These boxes are going to find themselves over at Marilyn's house where I am certain she can use them (and I don't really care if she can't cuz they'll be out of my house!)
Now wasn't that worth stopping the work and telling you about?
3 comments:
Work? what work? Playing with yarn, even if it is to condense it into fewer boxes, must never be construed as work.
It is Therapy.
Or it is Stewardship of your Assets.
Or it is Visiting with Friends.
See, it is all in the attitude. and now that your yarn is not a stash, you can visit it more often, totally without guilt as to the number of boxes it fills. LOL
Enjoy
Nikki
You nmake a good point. Alas, the work was the cleaning of the office. Which I made some progress on - but not a lot. But at least I know the office still has carpeting.
Always good to find the floor. I have a path in the bedroom, to the bathroom. The rest is rapidly being taken over by a drum carder and fluffy bits of fiber and yarn.
And the odious and ubiquitous clean but not put-away laundry.
I feel for ya.
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