I blame my sister Donna for my addiction.
True, in the past I had dabbled and experimented on my own. Nothing hardcore you understand. Just a taste, only once in a great while, to see if it still felt as good as the last time. Never enough to dig deeply into my pocketbook nor draw attention to my habit. Only quite a little personal fancy to mix color and designs in a way that made me happy.
After a while Donna slowly started to lead me astray. First she had me printing quilt patterns off for her. Then I started helping her to mix tones and patterns; offering my opinions like I knew what I was talking about when Donna had always been the artistic one of us. And she listened!
And then it happened. I've started hoarding fabric in every hue known to man and a few patterns that had to be inspired by either drugs or insanity. I dream of quilt designs and new ways to combine different blocks to make something that is strictly mine. I now lust after color and texture and the mixing of different textiles into something that hopefully will become a simi-work of art where before I was content to ooh and ahhh over someone else's efforts.
The lawn is overgrown, the flowerbed has a fine crop of weeds, the housework is weeks behind and still I spend all my spare time enveloped in my