A baby's blanket. Because the height of summer's humidity is the perfect time to sit for hours with a pile of wool on your knees. I'm not sure about the colours I have chosen; I have trouble with colours. I love colours, am happy to do nothing else with my day other than stare at them indefinitely, but when it comes to choosing one over the other, I dither. The world stands and falls on the right shade of blue.
Fabric is even harder. I usually muck around so much that I end up all disoriented and pick something-I-quite-like-but-not-really, for reasons known to absolutely nobody.
This time I had help. My colour blind husband assured me these were just fine. They are for pillowcases for me and my girls, because I get sick of plain old plain pillowcases. And plain old plain everything else, of which my house is full. I'm pretty sure if houses were people, mine would be one of Cinderella's ugly sisters. Or their even uglier cousin. And after I have made said pillowcases, I am going to crochet the edges and officially announce the return of Megan the Domestic Queen Goddess Lady.
