For the last week, I've been . . . not quite. Blah. Not able to settle, even to stitch. Just sort of plodding along. Not the way I like to live my life.
Usually, doing something (actually, doing almost anything) will get me out of the blahs, but this week I couldn't figure out anything to do.
And then, last night, it hit me. For the last month and a half (or so), I have been taking care of obligations. Family obligations. Work obligations. Volunteer obligations. Even needlework obligations. There's been nothing left for me.
And you need to have something for yourself. If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
So, tonight, I jumped back into the 17th century and pulled Martha Edlin out of her pillowcase. Ever since I took her out to take her progress pictures, she has been quietly waiting for me to take care of her again. It took me a minute or two to figure out what I'd been doing (WHY did I stop in the middle of a pattern stitch? Why didn't I finish that little bit of arcaded band before stopping? WHAT was I thinking?) but once I got into the flow, I just toddled right along.
And found myself smiling over my stitching again. And when I discovered that I had gotten a stitch off WAY back where I had started and had to pull out a whole long section, I did not even say any naughty words. I didn't even say any not-naughty words. I just said, well, look at that, unstitched the section and stitched it back in.
And now I'm going to thread up my needle with another color and start another section.
Tomorrow I have obligations again that may well take the rest of the week-end to handle, but tonight is mine.