
Oh, the perils of moving! As my husband packed his gargage/shop items into the back of a trailer, I was right beside him loading up my SUV with this: my STASH!

The entire backseat was full of yarn. I kept waiting for him to comment on what was in the bags. But he never noticed as he was too busy himself. I couldn't bring myself to let the movers handle any of my favorite things.

The back was full of a few of my stamps and iris carts, stuffed full of items from my stamp room.

All went well as we drove across TN, all my goodies safe with me in my automobile. A friend helped me unload and left all the bags in an empty room in my new home. But then disaster struck! My husband decided to help me "put away" the bags. As he made trip #3 to a hallway closet, he commented "what is all this, anyway?". So the jig was up and I had to confess. Luckily for me, he has his own "stash" that fits into a 30' x 40' shop, so nothing further was said.