I’ve never met a craft I didn’t like. Yes, I am a craft junkie. I love to gather all the supplies, plan out patterns, pick out colors. The thought of starting a new project makes me feel a bit giddy. At the end of the project, I love the satisfaction of knowing that I could do it again if I wanted. I’ve never met a craft I didn’t like.
Until now.
In 7th grade I was looking through my mom’s fabric stash (See there is a genetic component to hoarding fabric). The pink fabric in the center, my mom bought when I was a little girl. She intended to make a blue and yellow and pink braided rug for me (I come by this craft addiction honestly). She never even got started (procrastination–I come by that honestly too). I took up her banner and started braiding. For 14 years, I’ve carried this project, unfinished.
In the past 5 years, I have donated or threw away probably half of the stuff we owned (maybe more). I actually got rid of a garbage bag full of fabric strips all wound up ready to braid for this rug. I kept looking at this ball of braid that I had done through high school, carried with me to college, moved with us 5 times in the past 5 years, this rug is practically part of the family.
After finishing my crazy quilt, I picked up my ball of braid and began lacing…
and lacing…
and lacing…
I don’t get to savor the feel of the fabric or pick out a new color combination. I don’t get to plan a new design. I don’t even get to tear up strips of fabric or cut tiny scraps to leave all over the floor. The ball of braid represents hours of mindless braiding, probably while watching TV. The almost welcome mat-sized rug represents hours of mindless lacing. There is no joy in this.
I know the rug is supposed to lay flat and lacing it brings out the worst in my perfectionism. There is no joy in this. I’ve thought about wadding the whole thing up and chucking it in the garbage. There is no joy in this. I have carried this thing around with me for too long, unfinished. Mom says I should keep working, to build character. There is no joy in this. I’ve thought about rolling it up in a ball and carrying it around for another 14 years. Then I could feel guilty about not finishing it. There is no joy in that.
Then I think about the joy of a finished project. I keep on with the endless lacing, just to feel the satisfaction of knowing I could do it again…if I wanted. I put rug making behind me and pick up another unfinished project.
Just when I am ready to give up rug braiding forever, I wonder if it could be more interesting with different fabrics or if I followed a pattern. I hate to admit failure, and for a craft junkie, not falling in love feels like failure.
