Yesterday I decided I wasn’t in the mood to game after Sangria so generously decided to donate the hair scrunchie she previously devoured immediately beneath my feet at my desk; and trust me that description is fat less graphic than it could be by far. So I decided I would go figure out my stitch count of Book of Ink Circles, floss toss pictured above, instead. I knew where the piece was, being recently relocated to behind the recliner in the family room by the window, and being logical I go to pull out the floss and the instructions. Imagine my dismay when I cannot instantly lay my hands on them
Thus began my Friday. Figuring it wouldn’t be that hard to locate, after all I’m very good about keeping stitching together in one spot, I sat down turned on Netflix and started looking in logical places. First place I looked, not there and same with the second and third. Panic is starting to set-in, just a wee bit, but I can feel it’s tendrils in the pit of my stomach. I stop and think for a minute. I know what folder it is in, the dark green binder along with the Chatelaine Persian Iris Garden project I will never complete (that’s another story), and I know where I put it in 2008 when I stopped stitching the piece. At this point, I’ve decided to check the stitching stash under our bed and it’s not there, no surprise I knew it wouldn’t be. I then begin to tear apart my stash in the spare bedroom where my threads and WIPs (or more accurately UFOs since I haven’t seriously stitched in a couple of years) are stored.
Storage chests, containers, bags, and cubby holes are coming up empty. DH keeps popping his head in the family room as I’m going through stuff whenever he leaves the office. I think he realized I was driving myself insane. Several hours have gone by at this point and the instructions still haven’t surfaced. The last thing I want to do is have to figure out my stitch count from a clean, unmarked copy of the chart. Let alone remember what my color conversion were, so the search continued. I think I sat on the sofa staring into space, vaguely following the action on screen, as my brain tried to figure out where I would have put something so important.
So DH gets off work and logs off for the weekend and comes to join me in the family room. By this time it’s 4:15 in the afternoon, there is a pile of unread books to be put away, WIPs to be put back into the closet, thread that needs to organized, and chests stacked against the spare bedroom wall as a dug through them and returned them to the bedroom., but still no green binder to be seen. My face must have shown something akin to deep seated panic because he takes up the search for me. Of course, he finds it immediately and after checking someplace I had already searched. My relief was overwhelming, tinged with the tiniest bit of irritation as he sang Randy Newman’s Shot People loud enough for me to hear. All I cared about at that moment was the green binder was accounted for and waiting for me instead the reverse.
I got zero stitching done but at least I know that when I sit down to check my stitch count, everything is ready and waiting for me. Next step, new glasses (making the appointment for next week) and then watch out world, I will stitch again.