After a brief and hilarious piggy-back incident with a small but weighty miss Z the other day I have injured my arm. I think it’s my elbow, and what is required is rest.
It’s driving me nutso.
The past months and month have been spent curled up on the sofa stitching a quilt for her, and I’m so close to the end of that journey I’m aching to polish it off, move on and enjoy the sight of it on the washing line ready to go on her bed.
With 4 rounds of stitching to go, I’ll be able to lay it out – have a look over and see areas that need more embellishment to balance it out. It’s looking good and is so close….
But the elbow is really quite painful, and the stitching is uncomfortable so I need to put it down for a little bit, and I realise, as I lie on the sofa. LIE THERE DOING NOTHING, that I have become addicted to the gentle, repetitive action of the thread, and the satisfaction of seeing another little round or square done. The doing nothing was more painful than the doing. So last night I continued, am paying for it today, but feel more satisfied in some way.
I think it really is an addiction…