Free Yarn Harlot by Stephanie Pearl–McPhee Page A

and have a suit bag explode in your closet, spilling yarn into plain view and causing your family to stare at you incredulously, it is best to distract them. The moment they start looking at you like you should be in treatment, ask them very loudly who was screwing around with the zipper. Take enormous care to glare at them like it is their fault that a suit bag full of yarn has just exploded in your closet.) Got more yarn? Of course you do. Start stuffing. Yarn in skeins fits beautifully down the sleeves of suits and coats. Avoid stuffing the sleeves of your mate’s clothes. I assure you that he or she will not think that this is either clever or normal behavior.
The piano. Not everybody is going to have this option, but my piano has a panel down by my legs that can be lifted out. It reveals a space that runs the whole width of the piano and goes from pedals to keyboard. Filling this space with yarndoes not change the sound of the piano in any way, assuming that you don’t pack yarn right around the pedal cables. Remember to remove the yarn before the piano tuner comes. Piano tuners don’t seem to understand yarn hoarding either.
Kitchen cupboards. How about those top cupboards? Could you fit some yarn into the canning pot that you only use for six jars of jam once every seven years? How about your gravy boat? A lone ball of silk fits in mine. Casseroles? The cookie tins you only use at Christmas? How about the Tupperware that you don’t use at all? Get innovative—every little bit helps.
    Think outside of the box. You’ll need to, since all of your boxes are full of yarn anyway. Got a nook or a cranny? Stuff a little yarn in there. Trunk of the car? Cushions on the couch? Squirrel that yarn away and remember that with advancing years your memory will fail you, and finding your yarn again will become a pleasant surprise.
    Be innovative; ignore those who think you mad, and for goodness’ sake, if you think of somewhere good, drop me a line.

The System
    W ho says I don’t have a system?
    If you know me, then you know that as soon as the holidays come around, I become a trifle twitchy. Seeing a loved one wrapped in a really good sweater gives me a wonderful feeling. I have a tendency to get excited about wrapping everyone in this frosty climate in wool, and I overcommit to holiday gift knitting. I admit it: I tend to go over the top and cause myself a little stress.
    By “a little stress” I mean that I actually end up with so much on the needles that by the time the presents are due, I’m a raving, sleepless, knitting maniac. I do this every year. I always swear that this year I’m going to cut back. This year I’m going to be reasonable. This year I’m not going to try to knit twenty-three pairs of gift socks in four days and then beat myself up for not managing to warp the space-time continuum to get it all done. I swear that I’m not going to spoil my holiday by depriving myself of seasonal fun while grafting sock toes at 4 A.M.
    This year I have a plan for preventing the holiday meltdown: I am going to take advantage of all the half-done projects that I have ever accrued and finish them all up so that I have lots of presents in half the time. If I put these “head-start” projects into the queue with stuff that I’m already working on, it will be less of a commitment. It will both deal with tons of guilt-inducing space-occupying works-in-progress and thrill my family and friends with buckets of knitted things that are actually finished. It’s the perfect plan. Feel free to try it yourself.
    In order to execute this plan, I need to hunt up all of my projects and this means going into the stash. My stash is arranged in a format that resembles an archaeological dig. The most recent additions are near the top. Older yarn and projects emerge as I dig through the layers. Unlike more organized knitters, who have their stash put away by weight or color, mine is easily sorted into age layers. If I want something