It’s been one of those days. You know the kind where you contemplate handing in your notice. Oh, I already did that nearly a year ago.
Well, although I don’t have the kind of bad days at work like I used to – I mean in fairness, I could just take the day off really – today has been in the top five of bad days since leaving my ‘proper job’.
I can’t even share the photos either as it’s that time of year again, that is to say, competition time. Some of you may remember or may already be aware of the torture that is the biannual baby wrap weaving Facebook competition that I insist upon exposing myself to. I’d rather walk down the street naked. Except for the fact that it’s really really good exposure and for a business that relies solely upon social media, it’s fairly essential to participate in it.
So to break up my self pity, here’s a photo of some lovely lovely weaving by Mr Weaving Heart. He has been learning to weave and this week attempted his very first wrap, and what a great job he has done too.
Ok, back to my misery. I started planning this entry a few weeks ago; the deadline is the end of September so I figured that would allow me plenty of time. I really can’t say anything about it at all other than I had it all beamed, threaded and tied on and wove a sample only to discover (thank the universe I sampled) I had mis threaded it, but not by a couple of ends, no, not that simple, only ALL THE WAY ACROSS.
After a few deep breaths, I reached into my soul, found my adult and started again. I felt rather grown up and proud of myself for not having a paddy until I came to sley the reed.
All the threads had worked their way out of the heddles. ALL OF THEM.
This happened because
I did something really bad in a past life I hadn’t allowed a long enough warp section for threading after cutting off the sample, so the sneaky little ends had popped back out of the heddle eyes when I hadn’t been looking. Naughty blighters.
I was beyond angry now. Just kind of quiet and sad, you know the dancing on the edge of hysteria kind of sad. Again I rethreaded them, until after about a quarter of the way through, I realised something wasn’t right. You know the score, I won’t go into any more detail.
By now I saw myself like Sisyphus, that I was doomed to spend my days threading heddles. No longer a weaver, just a threader.
I’d like to finish on a happy ending but so far I’m still threading…