The other evening, just before bed, I pulled out a huge bag of beautifully dyed fiber that I hoped to start spinning soon. I had already separated the roving into thinner strips, and so everything was unruly and entangled. I was holding this crazy ball of joy, admiring its softness and lively color shifts when V walked into the bedroom. He had this surprised and pained look on his face as if he had just caught me masterbating. Which it kind of was.