This past week my manic quilting was replaced by manic decluttering.
As the end of the Covid isolation is nearing, as is our flight to Spokane (69 days), I can’t wait to enjoy a campfire by the lake. I want to bundle up in my warmest jacket and–rain or shine–collect driftwood and look for arrowheads on the beach. I want to perch on my favorite log and drink coffee. I want to see an eagle.
But for now? My cure for stress has always been buying plastic containers and putting stuff inside of them. A pandemic has not changed that.
Of course I had to sneak the new plastic purchases past Banjo Man, who thankfully was on the phone when I returned from Home Depot having bought all six boxes on the shelf (and wished there were more).
A decade of “Buying Pretty Boxes At Home Goods” has ended.
After several days of sorting and organizing, here’s the result:
The remaining white boxes on the top left hold my vintage button collections. I ran out of (a) energy and (b) plastic storage boxes. Maybe next winter…
Here’s a bag filled with three pretty boxes of sewing notions and fun stuff for Harley Chick’s craft-minded granddaughter.
I love my label maker. Can you tell?
And now I sit here with my second cup of coffee, listening to Tom Waites (The Early Years, Vol. 2) and wondering what I can throw away or repackage next.
Banjo Man had better watch out.