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I have been excavating my apartement for about a week now. This is a multi-week project for me at best. I can tell how long something has been on the floor by matching the bits of thread and scraps on top of it with a given project, rather the same way paleantologists can date fossils by looking at rock strata. I'm down to a layer of mostly gold threads, which is a good sign - those are from my noble gown, which was my first major undertaking after the last time I excavated my room. Somehow, somewhere in the midst of faire season, my entire apartment became my sewing room. I do all my cutting in the room that has the couch (which holds an awful lot of fabric), and all of my sewing in the room that has the futon. When I don't have my secondary cutting board set up on the futon, I also sleep there. Any project that require hot glue, spray glue, or some other generally gucky adhesive happens in a room with the counters and the sink. The kitchen is ideal, as it has a larger counter than the bathroom. (The cat box also happens to be in the bathroom. The kitchen is usually much more ideal.) I think most anyone visiting when I was in the middle of a project would think I was a nesting rodent, happily surrounding itself in fluff and hoarding small bits of sparkly. I also think that anyone visiting at that point would never again eat anything made in my kitchen. It's genuinely a wonder that I can turn out a loaf of bread without threads in it during faire season. I don't invite people over when I'm working on projects - they either stand miserably in a corner wonding which pile of fabric is hiding a peice of furniture, or worse yet, they might have the gall to go and move something. I just can't have that. I'll never find it again.
At any rate, I was cleaning out my upstairs closet (I finally found it), and I realized that if I got rid of all the clothes I don't wear anymore, I would have all sorts of room for fabric and new costumes! How lovely - I could hang the skirts without them wrinkling! (The idea of worrying about wrinkling the clothes I wear to work almost never crosses my mind. My mother occassionally reminds me that my iron will work on shirts as well as seams. But somehow, I hate to have my costumes come out looking like they were smashed into some dark and crowded corner of a closet.)
Sometimes I wonder if I'm a touch obsessive about my sewing. I mean, I have known some people who work to support drug habits. I work to support my fabric habit. I will not even discuss the subject of my costume jewelry habit. My name is Melissa, and I'm a Fabriholic. I have early childhood memories of going to fabric stores with my mother and seeing aisles and aisles of fabric - all draped and hanging within reach! That must have been when it all started. Now, I am trying to set limits for myself. I will not procure any more fabric unless I really think that I will eventually come up with a good use for it (or unless it's really really cool looking). I will not save any scrap smaller than 2x3" (or unless it is really really cool looking). My smallest scraps got their own basket some time ago. It quickly became the kitten's favorite spot. I replaced the original basket with a picnic basket with a lid. Now the scraps stay in the basket. I have a basket of ribbon scraps as well. You just never know when you'll need 3.5" of trim for a pouch, or you'll come up 2" shy of the amount of pipng you need! And that would be a terrible tragedy, best avoided at all costs....
