See, there is this woman who had a storage unit. In this storage unit she had yarn. Lots and lots of yarn. This was too much for her. So she invited the local Yarn for Breakfast group over to 'adopt' some yarn.
For myself, I was not sure I would be getting a chance to participate, but with the help of my friend I was one of the first ones there.
I think you see where this is going, no?
The arrangement was for members to go over in shifts, to prevent overrunning her house. Three vehicles were on the first shift, four ladies in our truck, two in a car and a single person in another car. Our truck arrived before the other vehicles.
It is theorized that our vehicle contained a greater quantity of yearning and anticipation (due to the quantity of knitters in the vehicle) pulling us toward our destination which allowed us to leave the coffee shop last yet arrive first.
And arrive we did. Cheerfully and politely we knocked and where granted admission into a strangers house to paw at her yarn.
And yarn there was. There were boxes of yarn. Boxes and boxes of yarn. Not small cute boxes, but rather large plastic tubs and moving boxes STUFFED with yarn. There were cones on top of the table. There were boxes on top of furniture. There was yet another room with even more and larger boxes. It was awe inspiring, but the crux was what was in the boxes.
For inside the boxes were neatly organized bags and bags of yarns. Some where of a set, a grouping of matching yarn producer and color. Other bags contained the makings of nice afghan kits. Sometimes there were several bags of the same yarn. Sometimes there were bags of balled/or wound yarn and another bag of the same yarn as it was when it was shipped to her.
Often we had to stop and ask her, "What type of yarn is this?" She was happy to answer, "handspun from Washington" or "handpainted yarn from Tibet" or "that was a colorway designed for me, would you like to see the jacket I made from it?"
Of of the things I ended up scoring was a full bag of six wound skeins of matching yarn for a future sweater. She picked the yarn for me based on what I was describing for my sweater and based on my eyes.
Several times cried, "I am done! No more!" (I have witnesses who heard me say it.) Three times this statement was met with further accumulation of yarn into my arms. Eventually, and with great effort, I made it to and out of the front door. Myself and another lady from our carpool staggered out into the sunlight, joyful and afraid. (Part of that fear was that we may have gone a bit overboard, part of that fear was that perhaps we might have missed something) With great willpower we stayed outside, trying to catch our breath, until the other two people from our vehicle made it out.
Then we collected our new yarns and hightailed it to the truck before the others would waiver as we had been doing.
We were not too soon as the others started making it out side and hustling to their car. I found out later, when we regrouped at the coffee shop and tagged the next group yarn hunters to go, those ladies who were last out of the door were asked a few times if they were coming back for more yarn. The lady who needed to be free of a good portion of her stash was very adamant that they needed to take more yarn or come back for another round.
I fear that even after the last car left (including those that did go back for a second run) there was probably still yarn left. I just hope that we made a good enough dent on her stash.
In the meantime I had a new concern.
As I have mentioned before, my roommmate and another friend of mine have taken to muttering words like "yarn addiction" and "intervention" in my general direction. This can be a bit distressing and as I looked at my pile of adopted fibers, I was most worried about my roommate finding out. Worried enough that before I left the coffee shop, I cast on for his second sock.
Luck was with me when I finally returned home. My roommate was gone and I was able to move the yarn into my room without him witnessing it. Eventually he did show up and went straight to the kitchen to start making our lunches for the week (he cooks, I clean, it works). I waited until he was quite busy chopping onions to let him know that I had spent the morning with my knitting group.
I guess I might have sounded a bit guilty as he responded, "And?"
"Nothing. And nothing. I just thought you should know."
He brushed this off and I quickly departed back to my room having made my disclaimer and feeling like I had won.
Later, we were talking about my computer and the silly habit it has of going into standby mode. He offered to fix it. I said that it could wait.
He was standing between me and my room. He was closer to my door than I was and there was no way for me to get around him to block access.
He insisted it would be quick and easy to fix and turned toward my room.
"NO! Don't go in there!" I cried.
He paused, turning slowly to look at me. My roommate did not ask why, or what it was I did not want him to see or even if I had gotten more yarn. Unfortunately he is too bright for that.
"How much yarn did you bring home?"
"Um..."
He quickly opened the door and rushed into my room, where he froze. He stayed perfectly still for several moments, his eyes locked on the THREE bags of yarn piled up in my chair.
"It was free yarn," I muttered, "doesn't even count, really." But I knew I was busted.
I am hoping that having completed several projects lately has helped balance this out in his eyes, though even I know there is more new yarn that came in than there was old yarn turning into FO's.
But I am happy with my new yarn. It is totally gorgeous and I think it balances out the knitting up and giving away my Angora yarn. I have decided the fact that I was able to participate and was one of the first ones in is good yarn karma for my treasured yarn sacrifice. Totally.
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