And really, this is something I've known about myself for quite some time now, but never before has it struck me with such drastic, immutable, dreadful force.
In the interest of being sly and not giving too much away at the beginning, I'll tell you a little story.
On Tuesday, I decided to sew. Laid out the pieces of fabric, decided on a design (messenger bag) and began to cut and piece. This was the first major sewing project that I had intentionally made for my etsy shop, so I was trying to be much more precise than usual on my seams and corners. (For a person as picky as I am about perfection, I am a surprisingly laid back seamstress.) (I'm not sure why.)
After several very frustrating encounters with my seam ripper and slight teeth gnashing, I was finished, and it does look mighty cute. I'm pretty proud of my idea to add an appliqued flower to the front flap. But as I was sitting on the floor for a very MAJOR seam removal, I got the bright idea (time out: do you think I'm pushy?---OK: back to the post) to turn on a movie while I ripped seams. An online (netflix) movie. (It was Hancock, if you're interested.)
And then, after the movie was over, I thought, well, that wasn't so bad. The movie noise had carried me past my frustration, and I hadn't been too distracted from my sewing. I even caught the main gist of the movie. Why don't I just watch something else? So I found some online episodes of this TV show I had forgotten to watch last fall, even though it did seem interesting.
And the next thing I knew, I had turned off my sewing machine and was sitting in my chair with a glass of Fat Bastard, a small bowl of chocolate chips, watching more episodes of this show. If you haven't seen it, it's a little creepy. Probably more horror than a girl like me should watch. Especially a girl who is alone and who has to take frequent potty breaks (my, how wine goes through one's body) in Lauren's creepy bathroom which has a door that creaks closed all on its own. Oh, and by now it was midnight.
Well, I don't know if it was the contagion of the show, the caffeine in the chocolate, the excitement of the day, OR SOMETHING ELSE (see how sly I am?), but for some reason, I kept watching and watching the show. Minutes crept past. Soon it was one. I toddled off to bed, somewhat unsteadily.
I lay there trying to find sleep, alone in the vastness of my dark room, but for some STRANGE reason, sleep was still elusive. So I reached for the lamp and my book and read for awhile, not stopping until my eyes were heavy enough and grainy enough to plunge me into sudden sleep. It was two.
(Have you figured out what my problem is? That last bit was the climax of the story, so the clues have all been given.)
The next morning, the morning light drifted over my eyes around 7 and I blinked at the clock. Too early. That would only be 5 hours of sleep. I drifted back under, waking again at 8. This time, my thoughts became coherent enough to realize that if I slept much longer, I'd be wasting Day 2 of my craft-cation in bed.
So I slugged my way out from under the covers and down the stairs to make some coffee. Bolstered by caffeine, I found myself half an hour later sitting in my craft area, waiting for inspiration to strike. Usually, with several uninterrupted hours, I can churn out ten to a dozen cards. Yesterday, I made two new designs (yes, I made 3 copies of each design, but copies are not nearly as time-consuming as new stuff). Yes, that's right: 2. And the rest of the day, I spent time doodling on a piece of paper, trying to figure out how to draw people from a perspective other than front-on. Also, trying to think of new designs. Nothing came, and my sketches are hideous. Shameful. I don't even want to show them to you.
Hmm, guess why my brain was so fuzzy? Even after 5 cups of coffee, the contents of my mind were more oatmeal-ish than anything else.
Maybe I need the MAN around to help me fall asleep at night, and maybe a few interruptions during crafting times are essential to remind me of what is really important.