Actually, it happened in the clear light of day.
I responded to an ad on Craigslist for a bulk lot of fabric for $400, worth at least $1000. I had reservations whether it would indeed be worth spending $400 on, but went to look. OMG, there were so many bins and piles I didn’t think I’d fit it all in my car. I poked through it briefly, enough to see it wasn’t all brown country prints or calicoes.
Somehow we crammed it all in my Jeep Cherokee, loaded right to the ceiling. I kept my fingers crossed all the way home that I wouldn’t get pulled over for obscured vision (although I had kept enough space clear to see the passenger side rearview mirror). I didn’t, and the load and I arrived home safe.
Looking at the pile on the floor, now that I’ve sorted out the kits and batting from the fabric, and comparing it to my existing stash, I think I tripled it. And it all needs washing. Gulp. Actually, my plan is to sort through it (as I have time), and choose what I want to keep. That will need washing.
The rest I will sell or give away. It would be kinda nice to sell enough to get back what I paid – then the rest will be free! I like free, don’t you? Hey, maybe I’ll give some away on this blog. There are also kits and patterns. I’ll sell the kits and give the patterns away here. I think I’ll wait until winter though, and see if I can scare up a few more readers first. Sort of spread the wealth around a little.
And, in keeping with this blog’s theme – I found 4 or 5 UFOs in there too. I’m not sure yet what I will do with those.
You may be wondering why this huge pile of fabric was for sale so cheap? Well, the quilter was getting older and her sons were moving her into an apartment and out of her house. She had already taken her sewing supplies and as much fabric as she could cram in, and sold some, and her sons needed to get rid of the rest. They wanted it out right then, before the estate auction crew arrived that afternoon.
So that’s what happens to your stash when you get old or die. Your family sells it off for pennies on the dollar. I feel a little sorry for the quilter, but her sons were grateful I came along. I didn’t dicker over the price.