Today I awoke and realized that I was on the verge of experiencing a very rare occurrence. I had a day off and zero responsibility. There was nowhere I had to be and nothing I had to do that couldn’t be put off until tomorrow. It was bliss.
“I am going to the store to purchase crafty things,” I said to Mr. Man, “in large quantities.”
Mr. Man knows with absolute certainty I have no business whatsoever buying crafty things as I am not a crafty person by any definition.
Unless you define crafty as cunning, sneaky, shrewd and devious and then I totally am.
Sometimes, like this morning, I forget that I was born missing many of the stereotypical feminine skills like: cooking, cleaning, making napkin rings out of old toilet paper rolls and remaining married to the same person for a lot of days in a row.
All it takes is something as simple as passing by a picture of Martha Stewart on the cover of a magazine holding up a vase she made out of toothpaste and cat litter and I instantly become envious and desire to also create something entirely photographable.
Before beginning, I am always hopeful. I can see clearly in my head what I am about to make and it is completely spectacular. Where I go wrong with craft projects is coincidentally the same place I go wrong with every man I’ve ever loved… I see what I hope they will be rather than the piece of crap they most definitely will turn out to be.
Wow. That was bitter. I think I need to spit.
This time my muse was a little bracelet that I frequently wear which was handcrafted in Uganda by women who have nothing better to do than make beads from paper. That’s probably because their days aren’t over-scheduled the way mine are with things like eating food and living in a house.
Every time I wear my pretty blue bracelet I always think to myself, “I can do that”. But then I get busy with work and family and husband shopping and I never follow the creative urge. Today I decided to throw caution to the wind and give it another go.
Before heading out to forage for Mod Podge, I did the smart thing and Googled for instructions and necessary supplies.
Upon seeing the list I realized that luckily I already had these things on hand.
“Honey, why are you cutting all those little strips of paper?” Mr. Man asked. “And why is our sex kit on the kitchen table? Am I getting lucky?”
“I am creating, you imbecile! Now away with you!” I tend to get a little Master Thespian when in the throws of artful expression. Oddly enough that’s also how I talk when I’m in other throws as well.
Long story short, after approximately seven straight hours of what amounted to arduous gluing, rolling, sticking and dare I say unparalleled creative expression, I have not one single solitary bead to show for it.
Stupid Mr. Man. Next time I’m feeling creative I should probably wait ‘til he’s at work.
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