This class was good for my creative soul. The rhythm of weaving is like nothing else. Reading the drafts is like figuring out a puzzle, and putting colors together is like painting a beautiful picture from your mind alone. The studio was filled with the sound of the harnesses lifting and the treadles clacking and the low murmur of kindred spirits encouraging you on to further progress.Read More
Hey, you know something? Sometimes this blog is going to have personal stories on it, and that's okay. It's not monetized. I'm not selling anything. (Okay, that's not true - I am selling things, but they're over on my shop page, not here).
I live alone in a tiny crooked apartment, and I love it. However, there are downsides to living alone. If you find a spider, you're the one who has to deal with it. If the toilet clogs, it was your fault. If you're hungry, you have to cook. Etc. All of those things are okay - I can live with them.
But I recently had to deal with a mouse, and it was not okay. Up until that day, I had never thought of myself as someone who was afraid of mice. I thought they were cute! I always thought I'd make friends with a mouse and have this mutual respect between us as we went about our separate ways.
One night, I thought I heard rustling in my linen shelves. I had grabbed an extra towel, and could hear something moving, I thought. So I did what any self-respecting adult woman would do: I went to hide in my kitchen and called my mom in a panic. (It was about 11:30PM). She unfortunately couldn't teleport to help me, and advised me to go to bed and wait until she could come help me the next day. The mouse, she reassured me, had probably been sleeping, and would go back to sleep. I still freaked out. Mice were fast! They were dirty! They made nests! But I finally grew too tired, and went to bed, barricading myself in my room.
The next day, my parents arrived armed with mouse traps and mouse deterrent. They combed through my linen closet, but there was no mouse (!). Instead, what I had heard was my blackout curtain settling (it's quite rustly). I know. False alarms are embarrassing. Oh well. I KNEW I had a mouse in my kitchen, so that's where I set a trap. Mum and Dad left, and a few days went by as the trap sat patiently in a corner of my kitchen.
One morning, I checked the trap, and lo and behold, there was a mouse in it. These were the types of traps that don't show the mouse - they've got a little tunnel with the spring inside it. Unfortunately, this mouse was absolutely huge (but still a mouse - don't worry, I don't have rats.. yet), and its legs hung pathetically out the back of the trap. I stared at it for a while. Then I poked the trap with a long wooden paintbrush, just to be sure it was dead. Then I put the trap in a plastic bag, and put the plastic bag outside in my trash bin.
It was a character-building experience.
And hopefully the last one for a while. Mice... are not my favorite.
Do you have any 'character-building' experiences to share? Any fun stories, things you had to do alone, etc.? Share them in the comments!