I am this close to having all the units ready to piece into blocks for my En Provence quilt. This. Close. So close I can almost see the completed top in my mind and yet I’m waging a battle against all these stinkin’ quarter square triangles. They’re like rabbits, really, multiplying overnight while I sleep. 🐰 🐰 🐰 So many QSTs. Over and over and over again.
I’m using Thangles that I’ve had around the sewing corner since the pilgrims floated over on the Mayflower and have used up almost the entire package. Never mind the ten other packs in various sizes that’re hanging around like fabric groupies.
Pin paper to fabric; sew; pull the paper off. Repeat. Is this what plucking a chicken is like? Pick, pick, pick…and the trash can fills with bits of paper. At least there aren’t any necks to wring, amiright?
Naturally, I’d thought I’d cut plenty of strips to complete the necessary numbers of QSTs, but then I asked myself where’s the fun in getting it right the first time? Because I’ve gone back to the cutting mat more times than I care to count. It’s like swimsuit season for fabric. Try, weep, repeat.
HSTs in search of a mate. Cue the rotary cutter!
I suppose I’m getting all discombobulated because next week I’m having surgery and I want stuff done? Organized? Clean? I mean the house is clean; it’s not as if this is Plum Island or anything, but to heck with all that dusting and mopping crap, I just want the sewing corner tidied.
Why do we women do this to ourselves? It’s not as though someone will drop by, ask after my recovery and then say I can’t use your john because it doesn’t meet my standards.
Ugh, where was I?
I’m just a girl trying to get stuff done, sooner rather than later. Someday.