What I'm about to show you is both shocking and completely predictable.
I hesitate to do it, but I think the only way I am ever going to address the situation is to spinster shame myself into revealing....
Oh, the inhumanity!
The cube room studio has become a dumping ground.
(Pause for a hearty round of "Like we couldn't see THAT coming".)
I tried, I really did, but I have turned my little nook into a total disaster, and it is driving me to distraction. I don't dare step foot in there, and God forbid I need something stupid like a bigger q-snap or a new needle, because the chaos that is my stash makes me want to sit down on the floor and cry.
My plan for the day is to completely empty this room, re-organize it to within an inch of its life, and then spend some time sitting in the chair looking out the window and enjoying the fruits of my labor.
I could sit on the couch and stitch this instead:
I'm three episodes away from being caught up with the Housewives, I've got eight movies taped that I'm dying to see, and there's always re-runs of something or other to capture my attention.
Oh, what is a spinster to do?
(Before you tell me to be lazy, understand that there are two other areas of CS2 to be done on Thursday and Saturday, so if I don't do the studio today I am setting myself up for guilt and recrimination of epic proportions.)
(Can anybody tell me why I do this to myself? You would think that by now I would have realized that I am old and broken down and tired and not the twenty-something year old gal about town who used to clean her entire apartment, go grocery shopping, and then out for dinner...all on a Saturday. Why am I beating myself up over one small space in an apartment that is otherwise kinda tidy? When am I going to learn that it's OK for me to be a patient and just sit on my heiney on days off, and not feel like I have to.....)
Dr. Melfi. Paging Dr. Melfi!
Seriously, kids, I think I get like this because I feel completely terrified and helpless three days a week when I'm hooked up to that machine, and I'm trying to convince myself that I'm still in control of my life in some way. Control has always been a thing with me, and I guess I have just never learned to relinquish it.
(Except to Stewey, but that's a whole other therapy session for a whole other day.)
OK, enough. I'm going in.
If I'm not back in twenty-four hours with pictures of some form of success...call the authorities. (Just give me a geads up so I can get a bra and lipstick on).
Happy Tuesday, Dearies! Come tell me all about your corner of the world today!