I haven’t sewed much this week. Getting ready for Wednesday’s rollout at work consumed most of my energy; by the end of each night, all I wanted to do was turn into a little couch lump. Dragging myself to the sewing machine wasn’t a high priority; rest and antacids were.
It still feels a little strange, knowing that I’m actually keeping this quilt once it’s done.
This quilt is surprisingly personal. The fabrics were all gifts specifically for me, or have other personal meanings. I mean, c’mon, there’s a print about brassieres and a print about sexual positions. It’s a bright, bubbly, and bawdy little thing. Of course I’m keeping it.
I have a few seams left to put in. Not many. An hour or two of work on a Friday night should wrap it up, and I should be able to iron the quilt top and set it aside. I’m taking a longarm quilting class in a week’s time, and after I’ve taken the class I will be able to rent time on a machine here in town. It’s very likely that I’ll finish this quilt myself, so maybe within a month or so, it’ll be on my bed.
It’s not been a good week at work. (That celebratory drink I mentioned in the last post? Hasn’t happened yet. Doesn’t feel justified yet.) This quilt has been a bright spot in my week.
More after I’ve caught up on my sleep.