trippy

I am barely squeezing in a few days in the studio each week at the moment. The pile of fabulous wax prints is growing and my fingers are itching to chop more of them up. I also wish I could just stay in bed and snooze the day away. Lazy slattern.
I need to shoot off to the outer suburbs to chase down a lead when really I should go straight to the studio and not leave until I can sew no more but the hunt is calling me. I really can't help myself, hunting and gathering, sourcing and scouring. Easily sidetracked more like.
I dusted off my pin cushion last night, it had been rolling about the floor, and marvelled that I had sat at my kitchen table one week and just stitched this. I was heavily dosed on morphine at the time and the heater was in the kitchen. I did it while working out the cryptic crossword and drinking gallons of tea and waiting for my body to knit itself back together. It's funny how I had the imposed time to just be absorbed in a project like this. I never have the time these days. Probably more amazing is that it got finished and then made into something rather than just floating about as an experiment.
OK must sort the shop out then head off for my hunt.