"I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights." - Maya Angelou
I think detangling yarn falls in with Christmas lights. With the sudden surge in demand for yarn around here, the forlorn yarn box needed attending to.
It's a bin of tangled yarn, failed projects, half-finished socks (who am I kidding: quarter-finished socks), things started still on needles stuck into other things and holding fast. Metal needles and merino dreams.
I hadn't realised that, like all worth-while detangling, unknotting yarn takes a long time to do. Oh my, does it take time. Mr. S. tells that when he was little, it was one of his favourite things to do for Nana. (I've mentioned before he's weird, right? Just the right kind of weird for me, anyway.) Having done a few skeins now, I think I understand. It's pure hand shaking torture if you're in a hurry, but really a delightful puzzle if you put some time aside and just let it go.
*This post is to kind of commemorate some of my loved one's recent detanglements of their own. To remember the hard work and patience required and the sheer joy and relief when it was done. To remember the worth of it every day, and that the sweetest, best part is looking at the days ahead and the possibilities of the "now what"?
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