On Sunday, I had an overwhelming desire to learn to make paper. Think of all the things I could make! With paper! And paper slurry! Look how I looked up the appropriate words; clearly I shall be a papermaker!! I could make the buttons for my Sacred Tempest Cardi (sitting on my desk gathering Darcy fur on the topmost piece, awaiting seaming...) out of paper! It would be fun and I could use up all those annoying ads I get in the mail and the 250-lb phonebook that I'm currently using as a doorstop (for real) and the plethora of Netflix extra paper from the mailing envelopes and and and
and then I forced myself to stop. I went into my bedroom and opened my closet, which currently houses literally thousands of dollars worth of wool in varying degrees of spun-ness. There is exactly 18 inches of space for hanging items, and only because the closet does a weird little juke thing that means I can't get more tubs of yarn into it. Then I forced myself to pick up an unfinished-due-to-slacking knitting project (helloooo, Hera Mountain Shawl!), plug into an audiobook, and ignore my papermaking cravings.
At least until I finish this shawl.
P.S. - the thunder is rolling again. I have Taken Precautions: Form of FIRE (and iPod Charge!) this time, so worry not, my puddle ducklings!
