Being happy is, as I think you would all agree, a good thing. And I am happy. December was a difficult month for me, though I prefer not to go into why. I do not ever wish to purport to have a perfect life here, far from here it, and I like to blog my warts and all approach to sewing, cooking and parenting. But some things I keep private. Suffice to say that I am well, and s**t happens. My point to all this is that despite having to physically drag my arse through the month and struggling at times, my memories of December are good ones. It was filled with family and friends, love and laughter.
And let's not forget my new computer. That came in December as well. Happy, happy me. Himself gave me a brilliant one as my Christmas present. The same himself who gave me a new sewing desk for my birthday in July.
Which brings us to the Being Married To A Perfectionist bit. My desk, my beautiful, beautiful desk is still not quite finished. What I failed to take into account when I requested it was (a) he would need to purchase every wood working tool, implement and table known to mankind to make said desk, and (b) if he was going to do this he was going to do it to the very best of his ability and make it perfect. Perfection, it seems, takes time.
Meanwhile, as it approaches completion, I am using it. Well, most of it, and I clear everything off when he wants to do some work on it. I was sat here this morning, thinking about being happy and being content in my life, and I was loving how even the parts of the desk I am using just worked so well for me.
|Do you like the bock of wood I use so my short little legs|
don't have to stretch so far for the foot pedal?
Then, just past the ironing board I have this.
The dining room table - obviously buried under fabric already - and my new computer. Soon I will be able to move my stash into this room and then I may never leave it, except to eat and sleep, though I suppose I could have food delivered to me directly and put some quilts on the floor. It's worth thinking about.
I am left with one dilemma. I love this desk that is almost finished. Seriously love it. It is big, and solid and made with love just for me. What's not to like? Only, in my original remit I asked for a recessed sewing machine. Himself is all set to do this for me but I've changed my mind. I've changed it because it is big, and solid, and beautiful, and I can't stand the thought of him cutting a hole right in the middle. What if I ever change my machine and the hole is no longer the right size?!
The ash is over an inch thick. The grain is beautiful. The design works for me. My chair can rise up higher to give me a more optimal working angle. Then himself could build me a bigger box to put my foot pedal on and ergonomically I would be great. Wouldn't I? Am I being stupid? Would you cut a hole in this desk?
Or would you, like me, just be really happy that you have it, and the space to put it in. And that you are blessed with a very lovely family and life. Is an inset machine such a big deal? I don't know because I have never worked at one.
Right now I am just kind of happy being happy. Surely that is a good thing?