This morning (and not for the first time) I struggled with claustrophobia while trying to weave.
Once upon a time (last spring), I thought about creating a fiber studio, then decided my whole house could be my studio since I live alone. The yarn goddesses had a good laugh about that, after Beau the Destroyer of All Things Nice knocked the warping board off a table and the warping board knocked over and broke an Ott lamp (and its CFL light bulb - call the EPA!), and the lamp knocked over a planter. I moved most of my yarn stuff into the spare bedroom that my granddaughter considers "hers" - it contains a certain amount of pre-school crap and a bed she has never slept in - where I can shut the door against a certain marauder.
Even though the arrangement felt cramped, I resisted moving the bed because of the headboard and the picture over it, and making the bed is easier when it is in the middle of the room. But today I had had enough.
The bed is now against the wall, and the fiber library shelves and yarn wire shelves have swapped places. This means I can scoot my chair back more than six inches, and I have room for my wheel if I feel the urge to spin. I also find myself staring at all that yarn, wondering what I should knit/weave next. So much fiber, so little time!