When stash goes wrong

We've heard it from family and friends for as long as we have been knitting. "Why do you buy more yarn when you have so much already? Don't you have enough?" They just don't get it. Stash is a wonderful thing. It makes those of us with a wool fixation happy and fills us with a warm, fuzzy feeling-and it's not just the angora. And with the addition of ravelry, we can organize and list our stash in digital glory to share with other fiber-obsessed yarnaholics. And have we ever!

No, stash is something to aspire to, to enlarge, to expand. It is something to fondle, enjoy, and contemplate. Who among us can't go through the (sometimes hundreds) of skeins in our stash and name pretty much where it was purchased and (at least in general), what project it is slated for? There is vacation yarn which can take us back to where we were when we purchased it. Gift yarn causes us to remember fondly the person who gave it to us. Sometimes there is heirloom yarn, which perhaps passed to us from a loved one gone on. Part of the fun of stash is that it offers a glimpse of who we are. In it, we can explore different dimensions of our creativity. Stash is also useful, for without it, how would we create gifts on the fly?

There is a problem, however, when the need to collect goes awry. Here are a few examples:

A collection of tissue box covers.

Of chocolate bar wrappers.

Old calculators?

And for my dad who puts waaaay too much mustard on his burgers, a condiment collection.

What makes these people collect such strange things? Some imbedded need to hoard? A quirk of the subconscious? Maybe stash isn't about yarn. Perhaps it's about filling a need. There is, after all, a yarn-shaped hole in every knitters heart that only fiber will fill. Who knows? But the the next time someone gives you grief about your yarn collection, tell them to stuff it and be glad you don't collect banana stickers. And put them on your list to never get handknit socks from you again. That'll teach 'em.