I was clearly overcome by the fumes from all that new wool when I thought I could seriously finish this baby outfit in time for Saturday. And yet, typical of me, I go on madly trying to work on it, neglecting laundry and everything but the most basic hygiene trying to pull this rabbit out of its hat.
It's at that phase in the creative process where I officially hate it, think it sucks, and that its intended recipient (the baby's mother) is going to fling it at my head and burst into tears when she sees it.
It's probably not that bad. She probably won't do the crying part. But I'm not sure . . . she's got a high-pressure job and the nursery hasn't been painted yet. This ugly outfit could be the thing that pushes her over the edge.
Sigh.
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