I hate to admit it, but my husband may be on to something.
I think I have a problem.
I really may not live long enough to weave all this fabric.
This was the attic over the older part of the house. As you can see, it is quite the mess.
So yesterday, Tammy and I spent some time trying to organize it.
And it was hot up there. I bought some of those plastic shelves from Home Depot, and they were a huge help.
Some of the fabric is loose, or rolled into balls, and so that fabric is in the totes.
This is a very old and original window, circa 1790.
We worked on it again today, and finished it up. I think we did a darn good job.
Now if this were all the fabric I had, it might not be bad. But it is only about 1/3 of it. And that doesn't count the socks, and the selvedge. Oh, dear.
Do you think I have an addiction of sorts?? Fabric, fabric, fabric. Weft.
Tammy counseled me today, she told me that I shouldn't buy one bit of fabric to weave rugs with, until I have used all this up.
That's pretty funny.
No, but seriously, I am going to try not to buy any more.
Moderation in all things, right.
Balance.
Do you think it is too late to work on myself this way? Or should I just throw in the towel, and accept that this is just who I am.
My father, was a junk dealer. I grew up with a barn full of antiques attached to the house. He scoured the countryside for them, and he couldn't stop.
All my life, I have been asked, "Aren't you Morty Cooper's daughter?"
Well, I guess it is obvious that I am.
Antiques or fabric, does it really matter?
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