Random Thoughts of a Disordered Mind

Return to Order

1 Comment

Spools of threadFor the last three weeks my living room has been an obstacle course with various projects in process taking over the normal space. The worst offender was the ironing board pretty much in the middle of things, which didn’t seem like such a bad idea when it was set up but became annoying the longer it took me to finish sewing.

I had a variety of alterations to do, something I’m used to doing because I’m short and it’s hard to buy clothes, even petite ones, that actually are designed for someone my height. But I also had some garment repairs and miscellaneous things that pile up until it’s worth the effort of taking out the sewing machine and figuring out how it works. It’s still fairly new to me, since the one i used for 30 years had to be replaced when my apartment was flooded two years ago. This one does all sorts of fancy stitches and things that my other one could only dream of doing, but I have to look them all up because I can’t remember how to do anything more than thread the machine from project to project.

Now I have several pairs of neatly hemmed new pants, an altered dress and jacket, and the mending pile is mended and put away. The sewing machine is packed up, the ironing board taken down, and the living room is returned to order so I can find things that were “tidied up” for weeks. I have some traveling to do, heading out this week to a conference, and like to leave things neat. It makes it easier to come home.

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One thought on “Return to Order

  1. Way to go! You got a lot accomplished! Anne, I went through my living room and picked up odds and ends that had been annoying me. I found some CDs that had been missing, my WW “membership” book and finally at the very end–my missing car keys. I would have been happy with just the order being restored but this was icing on the cake. (I misspelled that and it came out as cat which would have been not so amusing to the kitty.) It’s always good to clean up before leaving; there’s nothing as depressing as a house that’s dirty or cluttered. It makes perfect sense to me.

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