Little Things Can Mean a Lot

I did a yarn stash cleanout yesterday. Yarn? You wanna talk yarn? I had yarn from oh, forty years ago. For someday. When. You never know when I might need this colour, this texture. So I dragged it around with me through various moves. My storage has been crammed with the stuff. 

And it's always one thing that triggers a release of some kind. So the one thing that had me moving in the direction of releasing stuff was the gift of this jumbo screen from my beloveds.

The whole room shifted and changed as my old one had been on a portable wooden trolley thingie which had to be moved close to my eyes to watch (I am just about blind in one eye) and then shoved back against the wall. So the wooden trolley was then moved to a corner which became my knitting corner and the little projects I'm working on were displayed prettily.

And as lightbulbs flew off I thought of all this yarn taking up most of my locker space that I will, oh heartbreakingly for a second there, never ever use.

So I piled a lot of it into 4 bags (there's still more but I will deal with it.)

And I threw a notice on my facebook page that I had this for sale for $5/bag and proceeds would go to charity.

I sold the lot of it immediately. And get this: the buyer texted me she was so happy as she knitted exclusively for The Gathering Place a form of shelter for the homeless and lonely not far from me where they are fed and clothed.

And the stash was picked up this morning and the $20 handed over which immediately flew out of my hands and into the Vancouver Rape Relief And Women's Shelter.

So one small thing is like the wings of a butterfly: tiny ripples touching so many other lives.

Do you have any little things stories?

Charities?

I don't know about you but I get completely incensed by these charities that send me cards, personalized notepaper, sticky labels and pens.

I immediately drop them from my contribution lists.

I don't want my donations invested in this craptastic junk.

Apart from anything else, don't they realize I get thousands of labels, 200 cards, at least 50 notepads and 12 pens from their 'competitors' every year?

And then there's the matter of their thinking that I'm a quaint Victorian lady spending my mornings catching up with correspondence with my quill pen and delicately applying the flowery labels to my creamy bond envelopes. Such an inherent contempt for my intelligence chaps my hide.

Seriously, marketers? Talk of a turnoff. Hear me: I will not support you anymore.

But at least now I have a stockpile of stationery unto my 10th generation.