Healthy breakfast, preceded by cleansing shower, followed by fresh sheets miraculously appearing on bed while mountains of clean clothes move into drawers, neatly folded.
My mind, though in creative overdrive, even succumbs to an afternoon nap.
A coffee shop outing, family dinner, the husband volunteers to put the small person to bed.
Blissed out, I sit down to face my nemesis – the sewing machine I’d bought two days earlier, tired of trekking to the dry cleaners with every small mending (or creative!) project. Like stitching velcro pads on to a doubled up, thick blackout blind – your typical beginner’s job, no doubt.
The first pad goes on easily, and I feel victorious. The second, however, isn’t quite so accommodating. I’m pretty sure my needle hits the hot glue border that is holding the layers together. Soon after that, the bottom thread stops catching.
Not that that stops me from proceeding. Hey, wasn’t that needle kind of in the centre of the presser foot before? Do I even know what I am talking about with 34 different parts listed in the manual? What’s the wording I need to Google this shit? This project should be halfway finished by now. I’m sure if I just adjust this dial… (up, down – who knows?). Hey, has this needle shifted even more? I’m sure it’s not supposed to be that far left. Maybe I should just sleep on this. I just want this sodding project finished, damnit. Oh, now the needle’s bent – like I didn’t see this coming. Time to ditch the doomed project.
Maybe I’ll just go to bed.
Except as the light goes off, they all come crashing down on me: my long line of unfinished projects queueing up to stare me in the face with unbridled accusation. The painted trays waiting to be waxed. The almost finished wristwarmer. The in-progress-but-really-collecting-dust-for-weeks butterfly collage. Not to be outdone by the messy kitchen that didn’t seem so messy given the thrill of a virgin endeavour. The unwritten articles, the looming press releases.
One bent sewing machine part (let’s hope it’s only one!) is enough for my day to turn from “relaxed-yet-accomplished” to “naggingly dissatisfied”.
The beauty of the creative cycle:
When you’re up, you’re up. When you’re down, you’re down.
And boy, does down feel heavy in the darkness, Positively sleep-repelling, DEET against peaceful oblivion.
Worst of all, amongst the bent needle and the bruised ego, the fly-on-the-wall writer perches poised with pen and pad:
Move over sleep. There’s a blog post waiting to be written.
Welcome to my world. Tomorrow morning’s gonna come way too early…
Images: assets.entrepreneur.com, deviantart.net