Stuff I totally failed to do yesterday despite the best of intentions:
Hoover the bits of fabric off the spare room floor (WHAT? They've only been there two weeks).
Conquer Mt. Laundry (who needs clean socks. I'll just buy Husbando new ones).
Shower
Move away from the computer.
Things I DID do yesterday:
Read all 18 pages of Query Quagmire
Sit and THINK about how to construct a tartan crinoline.
Doodle aimlessly for about an hour. I drew flowers in case you are wondering.
Monday 21 May 2012
Saturday 19 May 2012
In Which I Become Afeared of Lady Felicity Marchwell's Wrath
Or perhaps, more accurately, her disappointment.
I'm supposed to be working on a new wedding dress. I have half a corset and bits and pieces of a tartan crinoline scattered over the desk. However, John-Lewis doesn't stock left-handed sewing scissors these days, so I'm typing with one hand while my other twitches on the desk trying to recover from the pain of using tools designed for the dexterous members of the human-race. My thumb is a lovely shade of violet in case you were wondering. (I'm fairly certain that you weren't, but I was taught to share).
I didn't mean to start a new blog post. I know one is long over due but when I started this break from sewing I intended to wrap a birthday present. I have, however, run into a bit of a snag: I can't find it. And writing this post may keep me from freaking out.
I bought the missing present months ago, having spotted the perfect gift at one of those rare times when I had both the means and the inclination to shop (a rare thing these days). Husbando agreed that it was an ideal gift for Lady Felicity Marchwell (names have been changed to protect the innocent) and we coasted through late Winter and early Spring, content in the knowledge that a good friend, in possession of a variety of hobbies, would not be in want of a gift.
Wherever her present is at the moment it is certainly very SAFE, but it's doing neither myself nor her Ladyship any good. Unless my brain decides to cooperate and I can dredge the location of the gift from my memory, I will need to find something else to give to Lady F. She may like the replacement, but I will know that it isn't right. Part of me will always wonder if she would have liked the original gift better. Anything I find will be tainted by the fact that it is not what I meant to give her. If I can even find a replacement.
'But it's just a present,' you say. 'Calm down dear. You'll find something else.'
Yes, I will. I will find something else and I will attend Lady Felicity's Festivities with a happy heart and I will have a good time. But that doesn't change the fact that somewhere in my house is a present which cannot be given.
There is almost nothing sadder than a present that cannot be given.
I'm supposed to be working on a new wedding dress. I have half a corset and bits and pieces of a tartan crinoline scattered over the desk. However, John-Lewis doesn't stock left-handed sewing scissors these days, so I'm typing with one hand while my other twitches on the desk trying to recover from the pain of using tools designed for the dexterous members of the human-race. My thumb is a lovely shade of violet in case you were wondering. (I'm fairly certain that you weren't, but I was taught to share).
I didn't mean to start a new blog post. I know one is long over due but when I started this break from sewing I intended to wrap a birthday present. I have, however, run into a bit of a snag: I can't find it. And writing this post may keep me from freaking out.
I bought the missing present months ago, having spotted the perfect gift at one of those rare times when I had both the means and the inclination to shop (a rare thing these days). Husbando agreed that it was an ideal gift for Lady Felicity Marchwell (names have been changed to protect the innocent) and we coasted through late Winter and early Spring, content in the knowledge that a good friend, in possession of a variety of hobbies, would not be in want of a gift.
Wherever her present is at the moment it is certainly very SAFE, but it's doing neither myself nor her Ladyship any good. Unless my brain decides to cooperate and I can dredge the location of the gift from my memory, I will need to find something else to give to Lady F. She may like the replacement, but I will know that it isn't right. Part of me will always wonder if she would have liked the original gift better. Anything I find will be tainted by the fact that it is not what I meant to give her. If I can even find a replacement.
'But it's just a present,' you say. 'Calm down dear. You'll find something else.'
Yes, I will. I will find something else and I will attend Lady Felicity's Festivities with a happy heart and I will have a good time. But that doesn't change the fact that somewhere in my house is a present which cannot be given.
There is almost nothing sadder than a present that cannot be given.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)