In the Groove

I don't know what it is, sometimes I feel like I'm all over the place and when the end of the week or the month or the weekend comes, I feel I have nothing to show for it and worst of all, I can't find the fire that fuels me. 

I hate that.

In all fairness, the last few weeks or months I've been focused on lightweight (in terms of cognitive load) fun projects and while I like that I've done them, it's like drinking a large glass of water: satisfying at the time but half an hour later you remember you're still hungry.

It also doesn't help that I really need to sew the stupid bedroom curtains and while I can tolerate small household sewing projects like sofa pillows and challenging ones like upholstery, I have a special hatred of window treatments. I hate sewing Roman shades although I love the way they look and the thought of yards upon yards upon yards of curtain fabric (to be pinch pleated and lined) for a really hugely long window is almost nauseating.

Someone was pretty pleased I emptied the box with the rods though.

To avoid the sewing of the curtains I made a Something, and then I made another and joined them and that worked out well but I'm not too sure what it's for or why anyone would care. It goes in the pile of Strange Things I Have Started Which Show Promise at Some Vague Unspecified Time in the Far Distant Future But Maybe Sooner If I'm Blocked Or Inspired Or Both.

There's a necklace I've started at least four times and each of the two-inch samples is subtly different but I was certain I had fixed on the design so I started a full-length life-sized version.

But I hadn't. I did an inch or two of the next row and hated it and pulled it out and started again and thought I liked it better but then I got distracted by a small burn.

I kept promising myself I'd work on the curtains but just this one more thing, and then I had a bracelet.

I'm not actually sorry.

And then I started on the laying out of the fabric for measuring and pinning purposes and my studio isn't long enough and I pinned the hems and casings on the lining and took one half to the machine and then realized I had no white sewing thread.

Tomorrow I may work on the curtains, unless the cats completely trash it all: they are convinced that the fabric is there on the floor, neatly laid out so that they can roll in it, kick it, hide under it, wrestle with and in it, and probably hack a hairball on it.

Oh the joys of.