Newton's Apple

I didn't think this day would sneak up on me so easily or so quickly. I knew it was going to happen, there was no denying that, it happens to most of us. I've become my mother. There I said it. How do I know? How am I so sure? The first clue was the stashing. It starts innocently enough, you like a magazine so you buy an issue or two before you commit and subscribe. That title is joined by one or two more, then one day you realize you have a whole display table of six different subscriptions, back issues and all. Would you like to look up something in the November 2004 Vogue? Are you sure, because I can whip it out for you. I have food, wine, fashion, and science magazines coming out the wazoo. It wouldn't be so bad if I got rid of the old issues, but nope, they are neatly stacked in chronological order. My mom's magazine of choice was Vanidades (think Cosmo in Spanish for an older audience); she would stash them away in her night table. If she thought she missed an issue, then she would send me off to search the greater Miami area.

You might be asking yourself, "why the sudden enlightenment? you admit you have a yarn stash problem, wasn't that a clue?" Apparently it wasn't a big enough one. When boxes of shoes fall on your head as you scream in pain, something just hits you. We have a problem here; my closet is never this messy. Look at the color coordination and all the shoes still in their boxes neatly stacked. Go figure that the night I'm rushing to dinner I grab the one box that lacked balance. This is not a good thing to do in front of the boyfriend, the one that starts to wonder what else I'm hiding. I don't think you get the magnitude of the problem with this picture, the shoe boxes are arranged four boxes high and at least that many across. If my mother were here, she would tell you how she solved this problem. Buy clear, plastic shoe boxes for storage and easy access. The woman has at least eight stacks (I believe it's more) that go five boxes high. Of course this doesn't include "everyday shoes". Those need even easier access. I present to you exhibit B:

The stash of shoes that live under my dresser. My mom keeps her's somewhere near the bed, but I find my spot to be very strategic. It makes things easier when I have to vacuum, here's a whole section I can skip. I don't "need" so many shoes, but I have a thing for Pumas and, I admit it, I'm a mood dresser. I need a lot of options while getting dressed, who knows what my feet will want to sink into. Would you like to see what lives atop my dresser?



Makeup that I use, makeup that I don't use, makeup that I'm allergic to, makeup that most likely has gone bad. Each one of those bags is full of makeup, but it isn't "everyday makeup" (do you see a theme here?) so they hide in the bags that hide in drawers. My mom one-ups me here as well, along with makeup on the dresser, she has some in baskets in my father's night table, and one of those huge train cases in her closet. The woman knows how to hide a stash.
I should need to get rid of some of this. Why do I still have the "oh, everything is blurry, wait, why do my eyes burn?" mascara? I don't want to hurt it's feelings that's why! But this weekend has been proclaimed "to hell with inanimate object's feelings fest". Nothing will be spared. No puppy eyes from the shoes that give me blisters or the lipstick that is too sticky. I'll even go through my magazines, my fabric, my books, and who knows what else I may find. I can't live with useless things anymore. Too bad for the boyfriend, he will be forced to go through all his stashes as well. If you want to hear about how he's becoming his mother as well, then hopefully we can get him to start his own blog.

What about my famous yarn stash? I am making some sort of progress. No more random skeins I say (unless it's sock yarn!). I took a good, hard look at the stash and took out anything that either I have no clue what I'll use for or just simply have no use for and took them out of there. I even took some Koigu out of the stash and back to the store yesterday (did I mention I have a receipt stash?) and exchanged it for some yarn I could actually use (go figure). Bye-bye Koigu, we will meet again, hellooo Silky Wool. Are you surprised it's not pink? I quickly cast on a top-down mini cardie from the lovely Wendy. My hands are confused about the yarn though. They say, "my, how soft you are!" then they turn on it and ask "umm, has someone been lotioning you up? Because I have to break it to you, I hate lotion. I hate it so much, especially when it gets between my fingers, that I used to make my mom put lotion on my legs (that's another post entirely)". We'll see what my hands decide.