I am in awe of my yarn even though it's really not that great. I recently received and put together 3 IKEA cabinets to hold it all. They are very tall and full of yarn and knitting books. They have glass doors on top and a series of drawers below, made from soft Spruce wood stained a pale gray brown. Two of the big drawers have fabric in them. The rest holds about 80% of my stash. It's all organized. It's all beautiful: lace weight here, sock yarn there. I can stand and gaze at it or just paw through it.
Terrible, just terrible. When it was stashed away in places where it probably shouldn't have been, I had to use my imagination. I would stealthily get it out and peer at it under poor lighting conditions. Maybe I would put it away again or maybe I'd get to work with it and make something wonderful. I would lie in bed at night and make plans. Now it looks at me face on. Pick me! Pick me! I retreat in horror to knit on a sock. I am unaccustomed to this openness. I'll get over it. Just give me a few days.