And by that, I don't mean the depression, but more the destination addiction.
I noticed yesterday, after Tim's lecture, that I've been holding my breath for a long time waiting so I can create preposterous textiles. And waiting for what, exactly?
The biggest obstacle was supposed to be the cleaning and sorting of the stash room, which I finished, shock, horror, 17 days ago!! (And I've been counting, but had thought it was 12.) And I'm pleased with the result, even though the bookshelf is already bulging, with two more books to arrive from the US and possibly three (tine ones) from Japan. And even though I haven't cut bay branches so the place smells badly of mothballs and gives me a metallic taste in my mouth, I still go in just to have a look around, or to line up cones and plan future projects.
And the studio, though it didn't go under drastic transformation like the stash room, is sorted, tidied and with all the "just in case" stuff thrown out, the drawers are not crammed so it's easy to find things. And I know every little nook and cranny was vacuumed, and so it feels clean.
So, my coast is clear. It's as if my brain is stuck in that winter depression mode, and I need an oil change or tire rotation up there. (Ben's been working a lot on his candy car, ergo the car metaphors. Otherwise, I'll never think of describing myself in this way.) But there is nothing stopping me any more, so I can breathe out and start making cloth now. Yay.
(It was hard writing this post without using "should", "ought", or "must", but I can do that now, too.)