Now I should reply to Anne's email, and accuse her of interfering with my ambitious plan to clean and unpack. There are two quilts that I am aching to finish; supposedly they are for Christmas. My mind is slipping from domestic duty, to needles, threads and batting. Like a Crafty Siren, a voice is calling from the corner of my mind, "Quilting, quilting! The colors, the shapes. Feel the fabric. The cat litter can wait." Anne isn't really to blame; it doesn't take much to distract me from the task at hand.
Labels: Life and Details, Play



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