CAN ANYBODY TELL ME WHY I KEEP DOING THIS TO MYSELF?

I have no idea what possessed me.

There I was, minding my own business, when I got the urge to do a little "organizing" up in the studio.

For those of you who might be new to this hot mess of a life we call mine, allow me to explain. I seem to like organizing needlework better than I like stitching needlework. I'm not kidding. If I had to guess, I would say that I've spent at least 94.327% of my entire stitchy life sitting on the floor with piles and piles of stitchy crap all around me, and a determination to organize it to within an inch of its life.

Yesterday, apparently, was a day of reckoning, since I decided to pull every single project that I have ever put a stitch into and then abandoned. We shall henceforth refer to this as the "Work In Progress Pile of Death", or WIPPOD if you will.

Forty-eight. Yup, that's right. I pulled, sorted, bagged, and then counted a total of forty-eight projects that I have, at one time or another, had in my hot little hands with all good intentions of finishing before I go to that big LNS in the sky. Forty-eight.

The official Work In Progress Pile of Death, 2009

I must be pretty well medicated these days, since I found myself approaching this WIPPOD quite calmly, and I even managed to look at it as an anthropological record of my stitchy progress. There were a few pieces on 14-count Aida, a few Dimensions kits from Hobby Lobby, several pieces on linen that I swore were "just too hard for me to learn how to do", at least a dozen painted canvases, and a small handful of counted canvas pieces. All in all, a pretty good representation of my life as a wanna' be stitchy goddess. Let's look at it again, shall we?:

Normally, I would have dissolved into a puddle of angst over the WIPPOD, but for some strange reason, I decided to breathe and reboot and pull a few projects to play with until November 1st rolls around. No tears, no screaming or yelling that sent Stewey off on a pee-palooza. Just a calm consideration of the things before me and a quiet reflection on the various aspects of needlework that bring me such joy.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME????!!!!!!!!

I'm HUNG OVER today because I spent eighteen hours pacing about the house muttering to myself that FORTY-EIGHT needlework projects in a WIP basket is A CAPITAL CRIME AGAINST ALL THAT IS HOLY AND I SHOULD BE SHOT ON SIGHT FOR BEING SUCH A DUMB ASS THAT I CAN'T SEEM TO FINISH ANYTHING AND WHY CAN'T I BE A BETTER PERSON AND JUST WORK ON SOMETHING UNTIL IT'S FINISHED AND THEN FRAME IT LIKE A NORMAL PERSON INSTEAD OF BUYING BIGGER AND BIGGER BASKETS TO HOLD ALL OF THIS CRAP THAT I PROBABLY DIDN'T NEED IN THE FIRST DAMN PLACE BUT JUST HAD TO HAVE ANYWAY.

Stewey called a cab and spent the night at the Marriott, and I'm pretty sure he opted for room service breakfast this morning, because he came home with waffles on his breath. He also snagged a robe, two hand towels, and a Kleenex dispenser, so now I'm going to have to drive over there and apologize profusely for raising a degenerate and write them a big check. Damn dog.

"Look Mommie! I'm sleeping in the sun AND I peed on the sofa!"

I didn't stitch at last night, and I don't think I've put any meaningful effort into anything since Wednesday or Thursday of last week. Does this qualify me for an official stitchy funk? Do I now need to limit myself to only stitching WIP's for the rest of the year? Should I decide that 2010 will be the Year of Unfinished Business and finally get these done? Should I stop reading blogs so that I'm not inspired and tempted to stitch every single thing on the planet? Should I....????

See? There I go again. Should-ing all over myself. Just when I think I've got a grip on "this thing of ours" and tell myself that it's all good -- no need to worry, I go and pull a stupid stunt like this and tailspin right back down into a weepy mess.

I swear, they should make pills for this.