So, it's been a while since I've been able to blog.
I'm officially a licensed therapist now and have my first professional client tonight. Getting my business license was interesting, but it's all done now. I just need to find a space for my business to live. Fingers crossed.
So, that's the good news.
Today I get The News.
Those with sensitive yarn constitutions might not want to read this.
There has been much need for reorganizing the house, so we're taking it in sections and doing a little here and there. The yarn closet was in desperate need, so Lara came over and took the stash to her place to wind it for me. She happily wound one of the three garbage bags last night. It was all good.
Then, this morning, she gave me The News. (Hug your yarn close, darlings.)
"Are you sitting?" she asked. "Because, when I was winding a ball of wool I found...cocoons."
Yes. My stash has been attacked by the Munching Menace. I have moths.
I know. I know. It's okay. Me, too. Trust me.
The bag she found the offenders in was mostly acrylic, and while they won't at least alleviate the world of acrylic, the eggs and such might have fallen into the acrylic, threatening to bring it back to the non-affected part of the stash. So, I told her to save what she could of the wool (please for the love of all things holy don't let them have gotten into the alpaca) and just toss the bag. It's acrylic. I haven't been using it anyway.
The other worry is that the affected yarn was sitting in this large basket in the closet that is half packed with Lopi wool. We think that's where they are. We think that they've invaded the luscious buffet because the ball she found the cocoons had been sitting in that basket. I didn't give her the Lopi because it didn't need to be wound.
Needless to say, I called the Boyfriend and told him to put the basket outside into the cold. He was confused, but I explained that it's that or burn the house down.
So, I've decided I'm going to throw what's in the basket away. Yes, I know that's a bit extreme, but you see, I also have this thing about bugs in my house. This will wig me out for weeks. Not only are the bastards in my yarn, but they're in my house.
*shudder*
But, the other part is, I just don't want to know. I just don't. The Lopi is going to go, and I'm going to make sure the other basket of cotten is safe. The closet will be sprayed with something deadly and vacuumed and the baskets will be sprayed and cleaned and we'll save what we can. (God, please, not the alpaca.)
I have half a mind to throw it all out and start fresh. I know the thought of losing an entire stash would probably send most of you into convulsions, but the Munching Menace must be stopped.
Learned my lesson. From now on, every bit of wool I buy that isn't going to be used immediately will be quarantined and carefully watched and checked for a very long time before it's ever allowed to meet the rest of the stash. If it's going to be used immediately, it will be thoroughly checked and washed and checked and sent through a gamute of paranoia.
You know, I'm a tree-hugging, peace-loving, love-all-creatures type, but if I could find a cure for the Munching Menace, I would.
*shudder*
I'm officially a licensed therapist now and have my first professional client tonight. Getting my business license was interesting, but it's all done now. I just need to find a space for my business to live. Fingers crossed.
So, that's the good news.
Today I get The News.
Those with sensitive yarn constitutions might not want to read this.
There has been much need for reorganizing the house, so we're taking it in sections and doing a little here and there. The yarn closet was in desperate need, so Lara came over and took the stash to her place to wind it for me. She happily wound one of the three garbage bags last night. It was all good.
Then, this morning, she gave me The News. (Hug your yarn close, darlings.)
"Are you sitting?" she asked. "Because, when I was winding a ball of wool I found...cocoons."
Yes. My stash has been attacked by the Munching Menace. I have moths.
I know. I know. It's okay. Me, too. Trust me.
The bag she found the offenders in was mostly acrylic, and while they won't at least alleviate the world of acrylic, the eggs and such might have fallen into the acrylic, threatening to bring it back to the non-affected part of the stash. So, I told her to save what she could of the wool (please for the love of all things holy don't let them have gotten into the alpaca) and just toss the bag. It's acrylic. I haven't been using it anyway.
The other worry is that the affected yarn was sitting in this large basket in the closet that is half packed with Lopi wool. We think that's where they are. We think that they've invaded the luscious buffet because the ball she found the cocoons had been sitting in that basket. I didn't give her the Lopi because it didn't need to be wound.
Needless to say, I called the Boyfriend and told him to put the basket outside into the cold. He was confused, but I explained that it's that or burn the house down.
So, I've decided I'm going to throw what's in the basket away. Yes, I know that's a bit extreme, but you see, I also have this thing about bugs in my house. This will wig me out for weeks. Not only are the bastards in my yarn, but they're in my house.
*shudder*
But, the other part is, I just don't want to know. I just don't. The Lopi is going to go, and I'm going to make sure the other basket of cotten is safe. The closet will be sprayed with something deadly and vacuumed and the baskets will be sprayed and cleaned and we'll save what we can. (God, please, not the alpaca.)
I have half a mind to throw it all out and start fresh. I know the thought of losing an entire stash would probably send most of you into convulsions, but the Munching Menace must be stopped.
Learned my lesson. From now on, every bit of wool I buy that isn't going to be used immediately will be quarantined and carefully watched and checked for a very long time before it's ever allowed to meet the rest of the stash. If it's going to be used immediately, it will be thoroughly checked and washed and checked and sent through a gamute of paranoia.
You know, I'm a tree-hugging, peace-loving, love-all-creatures type, but if I could find a cure for the Munching Menace, I would.
*shudder*
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