This morning I concluded that it's only our upbringing that dictates sitting in front of a TV (particularly soap opera), or a computer (playing mindless games) is bad, but reading is good; that these activities carry no intrinsic value as regards my engaging in them to procrastinate. Still, two novels in eight days, for this slow reader, was good effort.
This morning, though, I had promised that most annoying of people, me, that I will do something relating to weaving today, and since I didn't feel like dressing the loom, I tackled the end of hitherto the most temperamental cashmere warp.
I don't know why, but this one gave me a lot of grief some months ago, and I had to hold my tongue and grin and bear to finish a few tiny scarves. I had three false starts for the last piece and finally abandoned it.
This being on my four-shaft Jack loom, named "Jack Naggi", I had to try weaving off the piece, or abort project and throw away the expensive cashmere,)so I can use the loom for my stash-reduction joy-weave.
I don't know what came over me, but I was utterly patient, totally composed and without even thinking about it, infinitely gentle as I coaxed the wretched warp to become a new scarf. If this is what my little half pills do to me, I can not only work with it, but I can live with a better-balanced me!
This piece will have much mending to do, but it's halfway finished, and it's turning out to be none too shabby. And I had the added bonus of weaving ideas hopping around like rabbits on a paddock in my head.
It has been a good Monday.