It's sunny out, but I don't want to go walk the dog. I still have Christmas presents to buy and to make, but I don't want to. I have presents to ship tomorrow. I need to catch up, clean up, edit, shop, and get my act together, but my act is a wreck and I don't want to fix it.
I want to sit in a room and read a whole book. I want to watch a marathon of Dr. Who episodes, the ones with Eggleston and Piper, the slightly mismatched pair who were perfect together. I want to sit with my tea and my chamomile neck cozy warming my shoulder. I want to quilt crazy pieces of abandoned fabric together to make ugly little doll quilts like old ladies are supposed to do.
Did you know that? Did you know that old ladies are supposed to make ugly little things that they can barely give away. They don't crochet those pink and green toilet paper cozies with plastic doll heads because you need them or they would make your bathroom prettier. Nothing will make your bathroom prettier. It's a bathroom. They make those ugly pink and green toilet paper cozies with plastic doll heads out of abandoned pieces of yarn in their yarn basket because these women want to sit and be quiet while the TV is blaring some inane show that they never get to choose, because they don't want to accomplish one more productive thing, because they don't want to get their act together, but they don't want anyone to realize just what a wreck their act really is.
And slowly, over decades, their husbands realize, and then their children and their grandchildren and nieces and nephews and friends and casual acquaintances realize, as they futilely try to refuse one more ugly pink and green toilet paper cozy with a plastic doll head when they already have three tucked away deeply in their linen closets, that this old woman has lost her gourd and they just now realized just how lost it has been for all these years since she began crocheting them.
And by now, there is nothing to be done for it.
Thank you for listening, jules
I want to sit in a room and read a whole book. I want to watch a marathon of Dr. Who episodes, the ones with Eggleston and Piper, the slightly mismatched pair who were perfect together. I want to sit with my tea and my chamomile neck cozy warming my shoulder. I want to quilt crazy pieces of abandoned fabric together to make ugly little doll quilts like old ladies are supposed to do.
Did you know that? Did you know that old ladies are supposed to make ugly little things that they can barely give away. They don't crochet those pink and green toilet paper cozies with plastic doll heads because you need them or they would make your bathroom prettier. Nothing will make your bathroom prettier. It's a bathroom. They make those ugly pink and green toilet paper cozies with plastic doll heads out of abandoned pieces of yarn in their yarn basket because these women want to sit and be quiet while the TV is blaring some inane show that they never get to choose, because they don't want to accomplish one more productive thing, because they don't want to get their act together, but they don't want anyone to realize just what a wreck their act really is.
And slowly, over decades, their husbands realize, and then their children and their grandchildren and nieces and nephews and friends and casual acquaintances realize, as they futilely try to refuse one more ugly pink and green toilet paper cozy with a plastic doll head when they already have three tucked away deeply in their linen closets, that this old woman has lost her gourd and they just now realized just how lost it has been for all these years since she began crocheting them.
And by now, there is nothing to be done for it.
Thank you for listening, jules
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