I just spent the last hour moving yarn into the bedroom (cat free, and a bit more space to move around than the rest of the house -- albeit not much now that the yarn is in there). My plan was to sort through it and put like colors and materials together. Only now I'm hot, sweaty and tired and I don't really want to get up off the couch. Ironically, I know I won't get stuck out here because my yarn is in the bedroom and I can't pick up my needles and start on the brother to the fingerless mitten I made last night.
As I carried bags and buckets to the bedroom I thought "This is a lifetime's supply of yarn!" Then I thought, "I hope not, I'd be sad if I died before using it -- not to mention I hope to live long enough that I run out."
Back to work.