I have been making delicious little yarn cakes this evening.

Om nom nom.

 Guinness, being a cat, found a ball of yarn to play with while we were away over the weekend. She made a right mess of it, as cats are wont to do, so I decided that I would fix it. It's the brown one on the right up there; her kitty teeth and claws tore it in a few places resulting in the little teeny cupcakes on top.
Then I decided, why stop there? So I wound up some black fingering-weight that was a giant tangle in the yarn bin, and then a big skein of grey worsted and then a little skein of grey sport, and then a ball of variegated worsted all before they could transform into disasters.

I have discovered a that I sincerely enjoy unknotting knots. Turning big awful snarls into nice smooth line again, then winding that into a neat little cake is deeply satisfying.

I think it ties in with my love of crossword puzzles and sudoku: I like everything neat and tidy and filled in. Tangled, knotted, snarly yarn makes a little part of my brain twitch uncomfortably, just like those blank spaces in the Saturday New York Times crossword. Yarn, thankfully, is always untie-able (or at the very least, you can cut it and start again), whereas obscure popular culture references from forty years ago ending with question marks (you know the clues I'm talking about) are usually so frustrating that I relegate the paper to the recycling bin.

It's a shame I get so caught up making one little aspect of my life neat and tidy that I can't keep up with the whole picture, and despite my clean little yarn cakes, the house remains a woeful mess.