Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Some Things Never Change - Like the Obscene

I have not gotten an obscene phone call in many years.  I thought most likely because Carrie's friends were all working productive jobs and had no time on their hands with their young families and that I am almost 60 and there was no interest any more.

However, I don't know whether to be excited that they began noticing again or worried that the new crop of young people have too much time on the hands that hold their cell phones.

It was startling, simply because I have not had one in so many years.  I was so startled that I said, What?  and they REPEATED what they just said!  LOL.  It sounded vaguely like my friend Press, which is why I thought I had not understood what he said.  Press is a fairly religious guy, and while I am sure he knows how to do what this person said, I am totally sure he would not have called me on a Friday afternoon and actually said it!  When I looked at the Caller ID it definitely was not Press!  Even that was obscene!  LOL.

So, I am right, some things never change.  (segue)  Like my sewing room.  It too, is obscene.  The pile of UFOs will always be there, the fabric will always be piled up somewhere it doesn't belong and my work space will always be barely visible.  That doesn't mean I am giving up though.  I am working hard, or hardly working, to make a sincere effort to move something today.

Everything I own that is personal to me is in this room.  Our "common" stuff is in not much better shape outside the room.  It has taken about 5 years to get it to this state.  I am not normally a neat person; I tend to be a pack rat as well.  But I have outdone myself here.

PattyA - this is for you, my exposed breast, my chain, my nemesis   For all you others, soak it in -- I have stuff and you are lookin' at it!

I even used the panoramic feature on my stupid camera to show you the breadth of the surface of my cutting/work table.  Do you think anyone could work in there?  And this tall one is the center of the room against the closets and the window where DiNozzo looks out.

The closets have fabric in them as well.  That is why I have to keep that pathway there.  Also, I get balance practice whenever I go that way picking my way through the debris.

So don't start suggesting things, now, all of you with neat as a pin sewing rooms.  I know I need to clean up, throwing out stuff is a very low, low option.  I would rather use it for a raffle quilt somewhere like my beloved Swissy Club or for CAAWS.

Oh, and you have not even see the dining room where the long arm resides.............


  1. I have NEVER taken a picture of my sewing area. It's much smaller than yours, but probably has about the same amount of fabric and "stuff" in it! It would take a great deal of money and a promise that someone would help me organize to expose my sewing areas. Yes, I have 2 of them, and the one is slowly taking over my living room which I haven't used for a very very long time!
    Yes, your room resembles mine, sort of like maybe there was some kind of small bomb that went off and jumbled up everything into a big mess!!
    I once dated a man who had just cleaned out his mother's house of her quilting stuff. When he heard that I loved to quilt, he ran for the hills and I've never heard from him again! heheheheh

    For the obscene caller, the last time some guy called me with obscenities, I gave it right back and the guy ended up gasping and hung up on me! heheheheh Haven't had one of those calls for a very long time! That'll teach him to call a lady he may or may not know and assume she'll be horrified by the things he says! I'm a nurse, I've heard it all!

  2. LOL - I would be like OMG I can't work in here - I'm the opposite of you I think in a sewing room - I have to have open spaces I think because the room is so tiny.
    But hey we all do our own thing right!

  3. Oh I feel so much better now. Thank you. My whole house looks like that at times. Most of the time actually. I've always blamed it on having too much stuff in a too little house.


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