AuntPam has finally admitted that while she wants to go home, she is not physically strong enough to do so. Difficult admission to self. I noticed that a member of the quilt guild I belong to was asking some questions that demonstrated a difficulty with keeping track of conversation. I want to ask if she is living alone. I hope not.
I don't live alone. I can only hope that if I get drifty, my Hubster will catch it and provide support. For now, all is well.
I saw a hack about creating a worktable with storage underneath long before I married Mr. Wonderful. I thought it was pretty darned cool, but I didn't have a way to put the thing together. I used a drop leaf cutting table that was small, didn't have any storage, and was a bit wobbly.
Today, a dream came true. I got all the parts and the total cost was less than $400.00. Mr. Wonderful put the thing together for me. I finally have a cutting/work table with storage beneath it. Yahoo! Celebration! Much rejoicing! There is joy in Mudville!
This thing is large. My current cutting mat does not cover the entire work surface. I'm using the additional area to host my cutting rulers and my pattern weights. I've got several cutting mats that I could put around my main mat to extend the cutting area for dressmaking. For quilting, I've got more than enough area to work on.
TLDR: I got a worktable that I've been dreaming about for years. Mr. Wonderful built it for me in one day!
I left on a Thursday, November 16th. The movers had finished up around 1:00pm, and after I cleaned the apartment a bit, at 2:00 pm Bon Bon and I hopped into my truck with a few boxes of my craft things that I didn't want to trust to the movers. I took my new sewing machine and many of my sewing notions. I drove 2,500 miles and arrived in Kingman, Arizona at about 8:30 pm on Sunday.
I'm still waiting for the moving truck to catch up with me. It will be anywhere from three to five more days. I can really start moving into the house. I will have my furniture and the rest of my wardrobe. I'm also waiting for the kitchen things. Pots. pans, and foodstuffs.
In some ways, I feel like a newlywed moving into their first place with a spouse. I've done long distance moves before. Each one has been different. Unfortunately, there is a slight similarity with this move and my move to the apartment in Leesburg. I've got a nasty cough and low energy. All I really want to do is laze on the sofa. I kind of want to knit, but mostly, I just want to surf and play games. Knitting takes up a lot a brain work and I just don't feel like braining.
I have two work tables that need to be put on their legs. I have one dresser that I use for fabric storage. One of the work tables will be put on Singer treadle sewing machine bases. This is something I long dreamed of being able to do. Fantasy furniture? However, there’s only me to get this furniture moved. I’m no longer able to fling these pieces around. Perhaps after I get over this bronchitis, I can do it. But not right now. I’m not even sure that I will be able to get this stuff out of my truck and into the apartment!
This is a bit depressing. I wish I had more faith in my ability to deal with things that require physical strength. I used to just do things, and not doubt myself. The little old lady inside my head doesn’t want to admit she is older.
These two words are a smoking gun for many people. Getting rid of things? Why? Because they serve no practical purpose, they carry emotional burdens through negative memories, or they are taking up space that is needed for things that will improve life. I no longer have the space to store things that are of little to no practical or positive value in my life. I have plenty of room for the good stuff. Not so much for things that hold less positive vibes.
Some things are tools. Tools act on supplies. Knives cut, rulers measure, wrenches adjust. Perhaps tools are duplicates, low quality beginner tools for a craft or hobby I tried and hated. Or they could be the starter set for a hobby I enjoy. But they are tools. It’s easy to decide about tools. Do I use them? Would I replace them if I lost them? Could I donate or sell them if I don’t keep them?
Other things are supplies, like paint, fabric, glue, or thread. Thread doesn’t keep for years, it ages and becomes brittle. Paint dries up. And, tastes change, along with fashions. Remember the age of the chevron? That fabric with the zig zag stripes isn’t going to make a fresh, cute pillow anytime soon. Many supplies have gone out the door.
As a quilter, I am aware of the pressure to save every single itsy-bitsy scrap of fabric. That pressure is ridiculous, and in my opinion, unhealthy. If one person’s trash is another’s treasure, it is still trash to half of the people. It isn’t worth the time, energy, or space for me to save scraps.
I am attempting to create a sanctuary for myself. A place where old wounds can heal and new dreams can grow. The ideal sanctuary that I created in my dreams is far away from where I am right now. I’m renting a one bedroom apartment that leaves a lot to be desired. The floors are not level, the place was horribly filthy when I moved in, and so on. There is no magical creation of a good space to be. I have to clean, sort, unpack, put away, and make sense out of a chaotic pile of random boxes of stuff.
I packed in a bit of a hurry, and many items were not packed in an organized way. Fabric got wrapped around dishes, towels got wedged into boxes of books. It kept me from having to purchase packing padding, but it makes it hard to be systematic when unpacking.
I’m also still downsizing and decluttering my things. While I have long needed to do this, the amount of mental effort required is sucking a lot more energy than I had thought it would. I have reached a point where I just can’t face another box that I will have to sort through and make decisions about. It isn’t making the decisions, I’ve figured out some very effective ways to choose what to keep or not. It’s just that making those decisions over and over again takes energy that I have run out of. I need to be doing something that restores my energy. I need to be creating something.
Because I’ve had to focus on the basics of kitchen, bedroom, and bath, I have zero space set up for working with fiber. In order to create, I will create food to eat. I have been mentally designing skirts and sleeves, but I can’t do pattern work now. I’m going to make bread and prepare ingredients for future meals. It won’t be freestyle cooking, the way I used to, but I’m hoping it feeds my creative energy a meal as well.
I have found that giving things names that point out the silly side of them defangs them a bit. I can recite the silly name, sigh, and keep moving.
Getting out of the house where I am staying isn’t a simple task. I have no ‘dump spot’ by the door and I am often carrying more items than I safely should. I have declared the task to be the equivalent of crossing a river with a wolf, a sheep and a bale of hay. That is an old logic puzzle. You have a rowboat that will carry you and one of the three items. To succeed, the wolf can’t eat the sheep and the sheep can’t eat the hay. Think outside the box, I’m sure you can find the answer.
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