I’m here in California, packing up what use to be my home for the last three years. Now my entire house is being wrapped up in butcher paper and stuffed into uniform brown cardboard boxes.
It is fascinating to watch complete strangers tear down in a matter of hours what took you years to put together. My life here is now over.
The hard part for me was trying to figure out what to do with my yarn. We couldn’t personally drive it back to Arizona as I was hoping to do. Those of you with a signficant yarn stash would understand the need for your yarn to have personal protection. As much as I tried, the driver of the moving truck refused to keep my yarn securely buckled in the seat next to him and my Boy Toy put his foot down on shipping my stash express mail with $1,000 insurance on it. Instead, I was reduced to shoving it all into a suitcase and having the moving guys toss it into the back of the truck along with the rest of my household goods.
I was shocked to find out that the driver would not be driving straight to the storage place we had selected. Instead, he would be making a few stops along the way- loading and unloading cargo. What if the tag on my bag of yarn falls off and he leaves it at the wrong location? What if one of his stops is at the home of another knitter whose keen noise can sniff out the scent of wool and takes my stash for her own use? What if the truck breaks down in the middle of nowhere and the only way the driver can get some help from the locals is to barter my precious yarn for water and a phone call?
These are serious scenarios that seemed lost on everyone but me. With sad eyes, I watched as the truck started it’s engine and rolled away with my yarn. I don’t know where my yarn is going or if it will reach its final destination. The last comforting thought I had as the truck drove out of sight, “Well, at least I was able to sneak the rest of my knitting needles into my purse”.