I’ve thought for the last few months that I was addicted to knitting, as I knit in almost all my free time. I mean, I might take knitting to the grocery store in case the lines are long and I might knit in line at Subway (it’s a really LONG line) and I might knit during movies and cooking and while my husband lectures me about politics or technology but I’ve realized my addiction is not knitting.
I’ve been watching various video podcasts of knitters and spinners and various other fiber arts. There is one thing (aside from the obvious affiliation with fiber arts) that they have in common. They are powerless to resist the calling of beautiful yarns. I can’t tell you how many times one of them has said, “I saw it and I had to have it” or “I squeezed it and I had to have it” or “some-other-exposure-to-a-yarn and I had to have it.”
This brought about a revelation. We don’t love knittting/spinning/crochet. We love yarn. We buy more yarn than we can ever use in our chosen art(s). We collect it like others collect stamps or coins or action figures. We take it out and sort it and put it back. We buy more. We laugh at ourselves. We make friends with enablers. We bemoan our lack of willpower. We know better than to go to the yarn store and yet we go again. And again. And again.
I am not addicted to knitting. I am addicted to yarn. I love its many colors and many fibers. I love the feel of natural fibers. I love the variety of man-maid fibers. I knit so that I am justified in buying more yarn. Making gifts for my family and friends means that I get to buy (and touch and stroke and nuzzle) yarn. Anyway.
Other than being addicted to yarn, I am a 30 year old stay at home mom. My daughter is 7 years old and my husband is a member of the US Armed Forces. We are stationed in Germany but will be headed home to the Midwest in 12 to 18 months, where I will search out our local yarn stores and feed my addiction like never before.