Have I mentioned that I don’t like shopping? It somehow triggers a convergence of my neuroses and I find myself loathing every minute. I go to great lengths to get in and out with a minimum of muss and fuss. And so last week, when I finally made it to the checkout after an especially big haul, I was ready to abandon my cart and run screaming from the store. I started loading my things onto a rickety conveyor belt and when I picked up a package of q-tips from my cart, its cardboard lid fell off and q-tips spilled everywhere. The look on the cashier’s face told me that had we been in the wild, he would’ve chased me a short distance, followed by mauling me and defiling my carcass all while a British gentleman narrated the kill in a tense, hushed voice.
The exception to my anti-shopping rule is of course fabric and craft stores. I can spend hours in one, completely unaware of the passage of time, finally emerging with a maniacal grin on my face and my clothes covered in multi-colored threads from the 70 bolts of fabric I sorted through. Although I love that kind of shopping, packing and moving last year forced me to come to grips with how much crafty accoutrement I had accumulated. My fabric stash was especially shameful, given I’d only been sewing for a few years. And so in 2009, I banned any craft and fabric purchases. I stuck to my guns too, except for 2 yards I bought at IKEA in Chicago.
Most recently, this easy-peasy tute got me knitting again. I just finished a hat for myself and am working on one for Moxy to match the scarf I knitted her last Christmas. But when I ran out of yarn the other night and had to go to Jo-Ann Fabric after such a long absence, I wondered if I might experience some sort of sensory overload and pass out in the remnants bin. Fortunately I left with only a skein of yarn and a pom-pom maker and so perhaps I’ll narrowly avoid a guest appearance on Hoarders after all.