I hate myself. But in a really happy, good kind of way. I just bought myself more than I'll ever need of this:

http://www.elann.com/Commerce.web/pr...d=126635&tid=7

and this:

http://www.elann.com/Commerce.web/pr...tID=&id=118574

and finally, this:

http://www.elann.com/Commerce.web/pr...tID=&id=126598

It's waiting for me at Canada Post and I have no excuse. When it arrives it'll go straight into the huge growing stash of other yarn I looove but haven't gotten to yet. Along with the other mohair and cashmere and merino, and even the plain old plain highland wool. And I'm not even a luxury-fibre or delicate-cycle kind of girl. I have four sweaters lying around already that I haven't quite finished to the fit-for-the-public point, and I don't need any more sweaters anyway. I don't need any more socks. I'm four promises behind on my current 'projects', and I have to go buying all this super-fine stuff that will take 400 stitches to make up a single row and put me in hand-wash bondage for the rest of my life. And it doesn't even get all that cold around here.

I'm zarked if I'll make tights out of that alpaca stuff for winter biking because I know darned well after the first couple of times I'll fling it gleefully into the hot cycle just to get the inevitable ruination over with. I have patterns or even ideas for none of it. But I'm happy as can be, go figure.

Oh well. I guess I could knit myself a house or something.