So there I was, sitting in the Happy Chair fretting about something. I do that a lot. Fret. I couldn't even tell you what it was. Let's just say it probably had to do with the state of affairs in the kitchen, or the dust bunnies on the floor, or the fact that Stewey was prancing around with socks on because he decided he didn't want to "catch anything" from the filth that is me. Damn dog.
But I regress.
I decided to get up off my fanny and do something, and then decided not to do something, so I just sat down in a chair that I have by the back door. I don't think I've ever sat in this chair before. The truth is that it's a little recliner that Aunt Chrissy uses if we stitch downstairs rather than up in the studio.
So as I'm sitting there, I started looking at my little room. I mean really looking. And I didn't let myself look at the blah blah paint color or the mismatched end tables or the 20-year old tee vee. Instead, I looked at stuff that I love, yet take for granted on a daily basis. Like books. Or crazy-ass knick knacks that I bought at Hobby Lobby during a five minute shopping spree because I just HAD to merchandise the pot shelf that day and the store was closing. Or Stewey's perch (which always cracks me up when I see him curled up there watching the birds).
I kind of liked what I saw. So I got back in the Happy Chair and picked up Shepherd's Bush "Garden Gate" and started stitching away.