My spinning calls to me: The bobbin on my wheel says “10 minutes a day helps the knowledge to stay”; the yarn on the spindle itches for me to try drafting-without-parking again. The two singles are excited about how they’ll look when they finally get together.
My knitting waves from my bag: One of my knitting WIPs has a dead-line; the other has a longer cable-needle that would help the first move faster. This is a typicial knitter’s dilema, enough to paralyse you with procrastination.
Meanwhile my crochet sulks in the corner of the room. It yearns to be re-united with its hook that went AWOL in the kitchen. It knows its time will come; but is impatient for when that will be.
But my head is full of Patchwork Quilts: fabric, colours, patterns, cuts, seams, wadding, quilting.
Deep breaths! Smell the fibery fumes.
When I came back from a Quilters workshop last Saturday I was completely on a high, buzzing with the all I had learned, been exposed to. I didn’t know what craft to turn to, to “come down”.
Housework won out in the end, would you believe!