Closet archeology

I was just going to tidy up a little. Nothing major. Just put a few things away and fold some things. Then all of a sudden, things went all tangential on me and my bed was covered with things I knitted or wove over the last several years. 

Ohhhh, I remember making this…
And this….

The lap robe I made for Gramma Jolin…

The hat that Andi’s mother never got to wear…

My first attempts at knitting with my own handspun yarn…

I always play down my abilities, but some of these things are really lovely. It could be that I really know what I am doing. If I saw this pile of knits anywhere but my own house I would think that someone talented had been involved in the creation of these garments. 

Funny how I assume that some hack did all of this until I see it all together. It’s kind of an interesting body of work really. A lot of hats, shawls, scarves. The occasional sweater or pair of gloves or socks. I can knit anything, and even  make my own yarn.  It is one of my few talents that might be of use in the Apocalypse. I can make sure my loved ones are warm. 

Seeing all of this in a pile, I really do wonder why I don’t think I am good at it. There are things here that are beautiful. Anyone would be proud to have created some of this stuff. 
Then, after admiring my work, I asked myself the hardest question:  who is going to put all of this away?

Why doesn’t Squeaky Cat ever have to do chores??

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