Finding My Yarn (And My Groove)

Moving house is difficult. I expected it to be difficult, but until staring at the room full of boxes after two major illnesses, a barely functions boiler, and a moving day in which temperatures plummeted below freezing, I did not comprehend the full understanding of its difficulty.

The effects of that difficulty have since crashed into me like an elderly Buick driver entering the expressway using an exit ramp. I'm not really doing much of anything in the way of productivity other than unpacking, searching for items I need that are still packed, working, preparing my son for school/extra curricular activities, and watching episodes of Keeping Up Appearances on Netflix to give my brain a much needed romp of humor in the half hour before bed.

I want to knit. I do. If only I had time to focus on the intarsia colorwork football pattern that requires a certain amount of attention (and that certain amount is a great deal). If I start something other than the blanket, my brother would be very put out and he did come out the over an hour and a half to drive our U-haul truck for us. Besides, I have only just found my yarn and have yet to find my needles. Or my pattern books. Or assorted knitting paraphenalia. I never realized how much stuff knitting requires me to own until it's packed in unmarked boxes throughout my house.

Keep in mind that my house, at the moment, consists of a main portion, with a living room, parlor, kitchen, two bathrooms, and three bedrooms, and an apartment potion, with a living room, dinette, kitchen, a bath and a half and three bedrooms. We are living in the apartment half at the moment, as the main portion's downstairs walls are coated in a layer of debris left behind from the previous owner's kerosene heater, though our refrigerator is located in the main portion's kitchen. This means that fixing meals requires walking out the front door of the apartment, down the front walk, and into the front door of the main house. It's been interesting to say the least.

As I sort though my life, gathered in boxes, please enjoy this glimpse at the top layer of best of my stash, currently located in the main living room in my house, the part of the house we aren't currently living in.

It's the most knitterly thing I've done lately, photographing the stash. We did take a drive through the adjacent town, where my new lys (local yarn shop) is located. Unfortunately, we didn't have the time to stop in and see the fiber-ridden terrain. Next time.