The Stash ....

I've just read this poem and although my stash is a wool one I can definitely emphathise ...

"I have a little problem, it's called a fabric stash
My husband doesn't know it, but it cost a lot of cash
It started out as remnant pieces I brought from a shop
But then became addictive and I really could not stop.
Fat eights became fat quarters, two metres became three
And when I purchased a whole bolt, I thought psychiatry
I couldn't pass a patchwork place I had to go and see
if there were any matching pieces inside the shop for me
So husband starts to realize one cupboard becomes two
He's banned me from the fabric stores to keep our marriage true
So I sit at my computer while I'm banished to the house
But he'll have to hide the Visa 'cause I can click the mouse.
There isn't any moral to this tale of fabric woe
Children grow and leave you and husbands come and go
Enjoy your fabric frenzy, it isn't any sin
REMEMBER the old saying "She who dies with the most fabric....WINS!"

Author: unknown

Not too sure about that end line tho ...

Here's Issie with just a tiny bit of my stash in the background ..