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This morning I wanted to put a button on that cute little pink sweater I made for my baby girl so maybe she could wear it once before she outgrew it. She was sitting beside me happily on the bed and I was thinking “well, it’ll just take a couple of minutes, so why don’t I do it now?”
I hurried off to my office (across the hall), grabbed a needle out of the pincushion on my bookshelf, the sweater off the filing cabinet, and opened a drawer to get my grandma’s stash of plain white buttons. There happened to be a spool of thread in there, too, so I picked that up as well. The scissors were on my desk. I was in and out in less than a minute.
As I sat there sewing on the button, it occurred to me that this was a rare chore that I could quickly and easily pick up everything I needed for. I know that for a fact because I actually lost all of my interchangeable knitting needle sets in my office earlier this month.
There’s yarn everywhere, and I know that there are certain yarns available somewhere that I might want to use for particular projects, but I don’t know where they are. There are finished projects, and unfinished projects, all over the place, not to mention books, fabric, the remnants of the holiday decorations, magazines from months ago, a huge pile of those pillows of air that come in shipping boxes these days and can be recycled if you mail them back to the manufacturer but I’ve never gotten around to mailing them back…
Something needs to be done.
I’ve known this for a long time. My office has never been the haven I imagined it would be when I moved in, what, almost two and a half years ago.
There have been times when it’s been relatively tidy, by which I mean I managed to stuff everything that was messy into the closet and closed the door. But the first time I needed something it would all get strewn out again.
This time it really needs to happen because there’s not even room for my baby girl to play in here. I couldn’t lay out a blanket and let her kick around on the floor if I wanted to (and I do). Let’s not even think about the fact that in a few short months she’ll be crawling, grabbing things and putting everything in her mouth, and this room is a catastrophe waiting to happen.
I’ve vowed I’d get this place fixed up for a long time, and I hope it really takes this time. Maybe because it has to. I could somehow find five or 10 minutes a day to work on this until it’s done, couldn’t I?
Maybe I should get off the computer and find out.