Purging and bread and opera

I know some people, of whom I am very fond. And whenever I return from visiting them, it is as though I have been on a retreat. Their home is spare in its decor and in the amount of stuff that they own. It is refreshing. I feel completely comfortable laying on the carpet, as one does only in a house that is not full of furniture.

In my own apartment, which is, granted, smaller, I do not lay on the carpet all that much. It feels somewhat silly, frankly, with all that furniture and stuff around. So on return I did not freak out about our archaic bathroom. I did not freak out about the fleas that usually appear in late August (okay, I freaked out a little). Instead, I have been on a mission. A mission to reorganize. And I’m throwing some things out.

Surprisingly, I’m finding more to get rid of than I thought was there, and it feels good to reorganize; it always does. My problem is not in finding things or places. It’s in finding the time. I could go work on it now, but it is 11:30 at night and I’d become involved and I would look up and it would be 2. This would be unfortunate.

I have created two interesting new piles:
1. Projects. Want to start a new project? I have to finish or frog something from the pile. And it isn’t just knitting. I have quilting half-done projects, like my not-really-my-first-quilt but the one I decided to do when, after making my second or third perfectly reasonable quilt, I decided I must not be doing it right. So I picked up a “Learn to Quilt By Making 20 Different Blocks” sampler book and sewed all the blocks and then put them together, all by hand (I was determined to Do It Right) and then set it aside, quilting undone, and now… now I realize that I made a quilt in which three of the five colors I chose (I know. Five. For 20 blocks)–three are SOLIDS.

I’m sorry. I am so embarrassed.

And one of the prints is blueberries.

Anyway, after all of that good ol’ country hard-workin’ work, I left it basted (basted even!) but unquilted. So, do I quilt it? Then it will be done, even if I never look at it again. But I will feel… completed.

Other projects are frogging sweaters, blocking and weaving in a shrug I will never wear (too small–it’s like a luscious alpaca wrestling move), and ripping an sad and unidentifiable wannabe stuffed animal that I think wanted to be a starfish. It’s vaguely frightening, and it has a hole in the middle. I’m waiting for its stomach to come out.

2. The Pile of Notes. I am a semi-trained someday professional with many ideas flitting around my head, daily. At one time I actually wrote these down, on scraps of paper stapled together (yay saving paper! Not so yay with the incredibly tiny 6-point handwriting I chose to use on the scraps!). So now I have a reasonable (8 or 9 inch high) pile of notes that needs to be gone through. I don’t know what to do with them. Rewrite them? Consolidate? I don’t know what. But they need to be “gone through.”

I may have more piles in waiting, but that requires that I continue organizing. And it’s going on 12. Which means that “bread” and “opera” will have to wait. They always do, you know.

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2 thoughts on “Purging and bread and opera

  1. Oh, I long for a house where I can lay on the carpet! One day, we’ll have an extra room or two that will make our belongings seem spare. One day.

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