A Quest

I’m on a mission. I want to be more obsessive-compulsive about order in my house and find good homes for the things that I’m clinging on to. Starting with my wool stash.

Trust me, you may not be able to see the Great Wall of China from outer space, but my wool stash is clearly visible on a clear day. If I were a Trekkie I could be the Klingon of Klutter. But I’d rather eat gagh than use a ball of my most precious stuff to knit a garment that is usually too big or too small.

When I enter a wool shop I develop an automated response like the Borg. I assimilate yarns that come before me into my pile at home.

A trip to the Bendigo Sheep and Wool Show is a trap. I tell myself I’m going just to look at the sheep. Before long, I’m disarmed by the lustre of English Leicester, the luxurious staple of premium mohair or the silky smoothness of alpaca. Resistance is futile.

I’ve known for years that this stuff is weighing me down, but I can’t put it in garbage bags. In fact some of it is stuff that has come into my house in other people’s garbage bags from friends and mothers who have gone to that big wool sale in the sky.

Is there a way of being more ruthless about these acquisitions? How can I tap into my inner Ferengi?

And then there are the books and patterns...

This is my quest. A project a week in the Year of Finishing Off.