THERE ARE UPSIDES AND DOWNSIDES to having a finely honed stash. All knitters experience times of retarded cash flow. Having a good stash around the house is sort of like having a highly personalized yarn store where you can shop for free. Stashes are a creative source, a fountain of inspiration and the genesis of many a fine project. But if you let a stash get the upper hand, that advantage can become a massive complication.
Owning a spectacular yarn collection can become a source of pressure. Many a fine knitter has crumbled under the psychic weight of the stash and ended up its servant, casting on and off as the stash dictates, starting project after project after falling victim to the multitude of offerings her stash can make. For a knitter with low stash resistance, a big cache of yarn can feel almost like a burden — the weight of innumerable unknit skeins pressing down on the knitter while screaming “Pick me! Pick me!”
Some knitters handle this pressure by deciding not to have much of a stash at all. They buy as they go and keep little in reserve. These knitters are likely to have one of those handy “jobs” or “careers” that provide them with a stable yarn budget. Then there are those knitters who, like me, require a stash to support them through the lean times and feel that, for the most part, stash ownership is inspiring. These knitters need to manage the pressures of the stash through self-discipline and by keeping the stash at bay.
It has taken me years to learn that I am the boss of my stash. My stash is there for me to pick and choose from, to be inspired by, and for me to use as I see fit. Of course, there are still times when I go into the stash to get one ball of sock yarn and emerge with plans for two sweaters, a hat, and a set of mittens, as well as a slightly dirty feeling, but with practice, I now rule the stash.
Mostly.
From: Stephanie
Re: Your behavior of late
I know that you and I have an important, loving, fluid relationship, and mostly I treasure you and the way you respond to new yarns and changes in how often I visit. (I really appreciate how you dealt with that mohair thing. I’m so sorry about what happened.) That’s why, after all this time together, I dislike having to lay down the law like this, but you leave me with no choice.
You seem to be under the impression that we are in a marriage of equals — that I will love, honor, and cherish you and that you will take part in our relationship as a teammate and partner who makes suggestions and decisions about the life we lead together and what gets knit around here. That, my wooly friend, would be wrong.
You are actually more like my high-priced concubine. I love and cherish you, feed, house, and spend money on you, and in exchange, you’re to give me what I pay for: entertainment, pleasure and silent, nodding assent. I’m the one with plans, and you exist only to please me. I demand that you cease and desist with the following unacceptable stash behaviors.
• Stop throwing sock yarn at me just because I’ve finished something. This behavior will not be tolerated. You can also quit wagging your fancypants yarns at me and tossing skeins off the shelf, for I will not be tempted. I am going to finish the socks I have in progress before I want to see even one more label about “hand-painted” anything.
• Please leave the door to the stash closet closed the way I left it. I know you force it open sixteen times a day to give me a tempting peek inside because you resent my decision to finish my current sweater before I knit anything else. Having made that decision, I am reminding you that I am simply not the sort of knitter who would open the closet to look at the gray merino sixteen times a day (actually, I was just looking for the tea towels), so back off. I know it’s you who opens the door to make me look weak, because frankly, I’m better than that.
• Immediately stop with the whispering about other projects that would be more fun than everything I have on the go right now. I bought you, I own you, and I will make the decisions here. (You, there — the mouthy laceweight in the back — shut it.)
I want you to know, my darling stash, that I believe in your basic goodness and that I think you are a reliable and decent collection of yarn. I would never have brought you that nice silk for your back corner if this wasn’t true. I hope this review of appropriate stash conduct helps us continue our long and fruitful relationship. You are a mighty stash, and I admire the way you stick to what you want, but no matter what, you still need to learn … no means no.