The bag where all of my fabric scraps have gathered for the last several years, including lots of teeny tiny worthless pieces that leave me scratching my head. What did I think I could use that tidbit for?
Old wool sweaters, felt, and gobs of cotton.
It wasn’t pretty.
Phew. Better. That bag is full of smaller scraps to be sent off to a teacher friend. The box is full of folded larger scraps for a quilt I’m putting together as a wedding gift.
Next up? Notions. How is it that I have safety pins, spools of thread and pairs of scissors in 45 places in my house? No longer.
The knitting bin wasn’t looking any more organized. With stacks of half completed knitting projects that needed to be frogged and a fair collection of teeny tiny balls from left over projects, this bin was crying for attention.
And also pleading to ignore that tempest JoAnn and her mighty coupons. Not a thing needs to be added to this department.
Instead, with a bit of planning, I divided up this nonsense into future projects. There are lots of babies coming this Fall to friends who may need a soft cotton washcloth or two.
Or perhaps a felted market tote or two.
I think I’m addicted to productivity. It is disgusting how much pleasure it gives me to clean, organize, send excess off to a better home and make a lengthy list of future projects. Not to mention the joy I get from documenting such nuttiness.