Last Friday I was emailing with Michelle and she was telling me about the projects she was working on and what have I been working on lately?
To which she replied maybe I'd feel better (not that I'm depressed, I just feel like I'm under 20 feet of water trying to thread to who-know's-where) if I worked on a little somethin' somethin'.
Little did she know I spent three hours (duuuuuuuuuuuuude) the previous weekend just uncovering my goddamn sewing machine.
After eradicating 500 spiders (how I wish I was embellishing that ), I sat down and fixed a pillowcase.
DON'T YOU LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, SMALL STEPS PEOPLE.
And then after that, I tore up another pillowcase (with hole! because I have boys! and a dog! and they're rough on things!) (Get it? GET IT? ROUGH ON THINGS! Like ruff? Like a dog barking? Oh, nevermind) and made it bigger and fixed up the torn back.
Yes, I know. You've seen it before. But hot damn, I sewed something.
And, of course, the whole damn house knew I was sewing because I left the basement door open because Aaron was mowing and the boys were watching cartoons and I was screaming at my machine "WHO'S YOUR DADDY NOW?!" and, um, other things when all of the sudden I look up and there's Darwin.
"Do you like sewing?"
"Yes, I do. I really do."
"Then why did you call it a dirty little bitch?"
"May I have an apple?"
Now I have all sorts of grandiose ideas like working on my quilt and making a new bag and not feeling like I'm drowning in my life.