Actually, let me rephrase. I struggle to throw yarn away, its inherent usefulness always shouting at me as I pass through the motions of cleaning out my odds and ends of the stuff. What if I need this yellow acrylic for a future project? Imagine if I decide to knit a banana - won't I be upset with myself for throwing away perfectly good yarn?
However, it's not just the leftovers I keep, but also the gift yarn that I never really wanted but still somehow came into my possession. Yarn shares this irritating quality with cats. Somehow, it manages to infiltrate your home and before you know it, you're cuddling with it at night, but also having having long conversation with strangers who are mentally describing your obsession with the words 'crazy' and 'lady' as bookends.
I can't refuse the stuff and I can't throw the stuff away, so I've decided to treat it as my sketchbook and use it for design practice. Sometimes this is difficult, because it might be in a color or fiber or composition that I find uninspiring. However, sometimes - if I can see through the clash in styles - I can learn to appreciate the yarn. After all, I would find it very difficult to knit with a yarn that I have great expectations for, and thus any project must live up to its brilliance. The yarns that I don't love offer me an opportunity to truly knit without limits.
But you still can't get me to knit with eyelash yarn.