This has been well established.
He likes makeup brushes, toy mice, small change purses, bread, bread left in plastic bags on the counter, and...
all things yarny.
His antics have been previously well documented:
He does not discriminate between the yarn, the roving, or the piece waiting to be blocked:
But, this time...
this time, was beyond my "it's early in the morning, I can't believe he did it, holy crapola, it's everywhere" ability to snap any photographic evidence. Hard to believe, this time he rendered me photographically mute.
So, use your imagination if you will. Picture a nice, lovely, brand new (just got on Saturday), batt of black suri alpaca fiber waiting for me to spin into yarn porn.
Now picture tufts of same fiber spread all over the rug and floor in the family room, into the hearth room, down the hallway and all over the floor in a spare bedroom. I plucked and plucked and plucked. Sweep it off the hardwood floor? Nice idea if it were not for the fact that our floors are semi-rough faced reclaimed 12 inch planks complete with face nails. It was like velcro.
Miraculously, I did manage to recover most of it and re-form it into fairly aligned fibers. Somehow, after weighing it, I still have 2 ounces of the fiber gold.
It's a good thing I like Norman!