As Long as I Don't Preheat

Thank you so much, Gentle Readers, for all the great yarn storage ideas.  There are no more inventive creatures in the world than knitters.  My favorites are the clever repurposing of food-storage containers as yarn containment systems.  I'll never look at Costco the same way again.  And who knew we had so much in common?  Lots of you told me that you also have your stash spread out over more than one location, and that it's bugging you.  All of you admitted to having way more yarn than you think you ought to.  Some of you have plans to offload some of it.  Others are unapologetically hoarding your string (God love you); they'll pry it from your cold, dead hands.  We also, as a group, love Ikea, notably the Expedit shelf unit, with its many insertable basket options:

There's even a version of this with a desk attached.  I'm dreaming of a whole room devoted to my yarn pile, where I could also write books, blog, and even knit.  There is such a space in my home; an annex off the garage which only needs a wall, some windows and hvac to become my atelier.  I'm only one viral knitting pattern away from realizing the fantasy. 

In the meantime, all this stash sortation and storage meditation has me wondering:  How many of us have made plans for the disposition of our stash when we die?  I haven't, but I know knitters who have.  What's your plan?  Divide it between your favorite knitters?  Be buried with it (or, more likely in my case, UNDER it)?  Donate it to charity?  Leave the whole (problem) legacy to your heirs?

Sure, it's a grim subject, but how else can we be sure something so precious as a yarn collection meets an appropriate end?  A stash is not like money, after all; it's much more valuable than that. Think about it:  How often do you hear about crazy old ladies leaving their stash to a cat?  Never.  Because we all know that cats are terrible knitters.