I’ve recently been inventing all sorts of little projects to use up my fabric scraps (so that I’ll be allowed to acquire more fabric scraps, of course). I get the feeling that this is a pursuit I’m going to have all the rest of my days, unless I suddenly stop sewing. Y’know, if Hell freezes over. Which is what I once said it would take to get me to start sewing, so I guess you just never know. Or maybe Hell has frequent thermostat problems and has frozen over on multiple occasions in the last few years. Could explain a lot.
Regardless, I’ve come to realize that I will probably be surrounded by an abundance of fabric scraps for the rest of my days. In fact, if I’m one of those weird old ladies who dies in her own apartment, that’s probably how they’ll find me – buried under an avalanche of fabric scraps, brought down on my head when I was innocently reaching for the glue gun. Tragic. Bridget Jones thinks she’ll be eaten by Alsations, pretty sure The Bloggess mentions being consumed by cats (I just finished her book, which you should totally read – it’s wonderfully, horrifically funny, and often surreal in the extreme), but I will be suffocated by cotton prints and polyester blends. If there are any members of the animal kingdom to blame, it’ll have to be moths. They’ll surely find some wool scraps or something to munch on in my funereal fabric pile, and probably take a bite out of me accidentally just because. If it’s possible to be eaten by moths, I’m sure it’ll happen to me.