I keep reading this as yam acquisition syndrome
. I don't know that anyone collects me, and I sincerely hope my relatively slight frame can't take up anyone's apartment
, however tiny. I suppose you could accuse my strings of ex-boyfriend
s of being afflicted.
OH OH YARN
I too have this trouble. I have a fairly short attention span, so while I am an accomplished knitter, it is generally expressed in small and infrequent bursts. I do, however, find myself constantly in craft stores. Dressew, a local fabric shop, seems to insert itself in to my itinerary without notice, swaying and swerving and bending space and time to be in my path. The top floor is deadly: racks and stacks and packs of fabric remnants, snips and snatches and swatches of everything. I am unimaginative: everything would make a WONNNNNDERFUL superhero cape. Capes gleefully dancing in my mind I tramp downstairs, to the notions department, to find bits and bobs to finish with. There, alas, I am confronted with.. embroidery thread! Oh, oh, embroidery thread. Many an hour of my misspent youth was spent in thee, diligently knotting friendship bracelets.. but I am strong! strong! I will walk straight past them, and straight past the rickrack, past the vinyl scraps, past the.. silver leather scraps... NO NO PAST! ONWARDS!
But here I encounter always my doom: shoelaces. The shoelaces are so cheap: 10 cents a pair, even for the 72 inchers I can make hat bands for. Never mind that my only hat with a flat brim already has a hat band and several spares, here are YELLOW shoelaces, imagine the jollity! shoelaces in hand act tragically as a gateway drug, one thing leading to the next, and no officer I don't know how but suddenly..
ahh, the yarn. I yearn all of a sudden to make socks, slippers, scarves.. yarn makes me itchy and I never wear anything I make, not even the strange green underwear I made once in a fit of whimsy, but a new ball of yarn holds such promise.. look at this thick yarn, it'd knit up so fasssstt.. oh look it's VARIEGATED, glee glee glee! I'll get home and knit one, purl one, knit one, purl one.. and distracted forget entirely until next time I pass Canada CraftWorld at the mall. Alas.
This has been direly aggravated by my recent inheritance from my late grandmother of her extensive collection of knitting needles. I have, in all, some 23 pairs of knitting needles. 3 circular, 2 oversized, 4 dainty sets of lace needles, and 14 assorted pairs of straight single and double ended fiends fiends fiends. They whisper to me from their silent basket. Come.. come yam.. knit. Sit here. Buy us more yarn. Come here yam.
I sometimes think they too have yam acquisition syndrome.