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I am procrastinating.
Neither of us makes housecleaning a priority.
Perhaps I will just neaten things.
My room is overfilled with my treasures.
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The State of Civilization
By Helen Kelley
I am procrastinating. Bill and I are sitting here discussing important things, like the condition of the world. "It seems to me, " I say, "there are certain behaviors that any civilized person must subscribe to occasionally. First, one must take out the garbage. Second, one must change her underwear from time to time. And third, one must clean the house now and then. "
"I think, " Bill says, "that two out of three is pretty good. "
Since neither of us makes housecleaning a priority, it takes an embarrassingly long time for me to face the fact that this house has been neglected.
Occasionally, conscience dictates that I must clean it. The pertinent question is not "Should I?" (yes), or "When?" (now), but "How much?" Most of the job will be pretty easy. I simply will dust everything and vacuum. But I draw the line at washing windows. That is pretty radical behavior. I can, however, satisfy the window challenge by tossing the draperies into the dryer to tumble in some fresh air.
I will fill a bucket with heavy duty cleaner and scrub all of the kitchen, though I think it's not necessary to wipe out the inside of the refrigerator. My trusty little vacuum should pick up the scruffy, dried flakes of onion skins that litter the vegetable bin.
The biggest problem is cleaning my workroom. It has to be somewhat organized just so that I can find things when I want them. I begin by sorting out the debris that I have tacked to my bulletin board. This is where my quilting stencils dangle. Here's a quilting pattern that a friend made for me and a square of fabric that has "1876" woven into the stripes. There are some pewter buttons in the shape of patchwork squares, a snowflake paper cutting, postcards from exotic places, and name tags from quilt conferences. This is really good stuff that I can't possibly throw away. Maybe I will just neaten it.
My pins need to be put back in their separate tins, the fine ones for delicate work, the corsage pins for tacking my quilt to the floor when I baste it, and my big pins with the colored heads for holding my patchwork pieces on my styrofoam wall when I am planning my new quilts. I always intend to sit down with my pliers and straighten out the pins I've bent and warped by sewing over them (I know I shouldn't), but I never seem to get around to it. Pins are not expensive, but salvaging them is just one of those funny economy-type things that I do so that I can spend my money, instead, on fabric. For now, perhaps I will neaten them.
I will, of course, run the vacuum across the carpet. Maybe I will find the quilting needle that I dropped last week. My super-duper cleaning machine makes strange noises when I push it through this room sucking up the miscellany scattered across the floor. It chatters, clanks, rattles, and sometimes it even growls.
I have an astonishing number of rulers propped up between the wall and one of those slotted wooden ruler holders. I bought new rulers when the numbers rubbed off the old ones, but I thought better of tossing out the old ones and kept them. I have lots of 18-inch wooden rulers cut from yardsticks, perfect for drawing straight lines on batting with heavy black markers. The ink from the markers stains the edges of rulers, and if used on plastic ones, the residual ink rubs off onto the fabric. I use these wooden rulers to mark large batts so that I can cut them into smaller pieces. These rulers are important; maybe I will just neaten them.
I have seen all sorts of schemes for disposing of excessive fabric. Some quilters hold garage sales to pare down their stashes, or they donate it for charity quilts. Some cut their fabric into squares and swap them with friends to make charm quilts. When I look at my fabric, I remember that I bought this piece for a special project or fell in love with that piece and just had to have it. I can't discard it. Maybe I will just neaten it up.
My room is overfilled with my treasures, a collection of bits left from a lifetime of quilting encounters. Some people might believe that amassing this assortment of lovingly accumulated loot is uncivilized behavior, beyond the confines of civilized behavior. I must admit, however, that if there had been a quilt shop in ancient Rome, way back when, I would probably have been one of those climbing the walls, ready to pillage and loot with the other barbarians.
©HK 2003
Helen Kelley is a quiltmaker, lecturer, author, and teacher from Minneapolis, Minnesota. You can visit Helen on the Internet at her website www.helenkelley-patchworks.com or email Helen at this address: helen@helenkelley-patchworks.com.
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