An Addiction…A Fabric Addiction

I have an addiction.  Not to a harmful substance or a dangerous habit.  Well, I guess this addiction could wreak havoc on the bank account.  It’s an addiction to fabric.  I can’t stop buying it and accumulating it.   When I receive a JoAnns coupon in the mail it burns a hole in my pocket like a kid with $10.  It’s even worse when I get a double dose of coupons through mail AND email.  My local quilt shop, Village Dry Goods, is constantly beckoning to me.

It started innocent enough.   Nine months ago when I decided to do my first quilt I purchased the required amount of fabric.  Then here and there I would attempt other projects – a skirt for me, a reversible bag, a dress for my little one – and I would hit the fabric store again.  But slowly through the months I found myself picking up a fat quarter here, a remnant there.  They were small amounts, so it was no big deal.  But the desire to buy those small amounts grew.  I found myself buying quarter cuts of a whole line at quilt shops.  I didn’t have any particular projects in mind, I just knew that I loved the material and that I wanted to do SOMETHING with it.

About a month ago I was in my sewing room organizing my material.  I was folding it ever so nicely, putting into drawers, and arranging it by color.  As I was doing this I was praying that my husband wouldn’t come find me, but of course he did.  As he watched me fold some of the material I said, “You weren’t supposed to see this.”  “See what?”  “I think I have a problem, I keep buying material.” He looked around then said, “Don’t worry, it can’t compete with my bullets.  You don’t have a problem, yet.”  Then he smiled and left the room.

I should mention.  My husband isn’t some crazed person hiding from the government in the mountains with his weapons.  He grew up participating in recreational shooting with his dad and brothers.  He is now in the Army and still enjoys shooting.  For him a day shooting targets in the desert is like a day on the golf course to other men.  So his comment about bullets, was an affirmation that he is okay with my addiction.  He gets it.  Kind of.

I love my hubby.  And my fabric.