Patchwork. The stalwart metaphor for bringing disparate pieces together. This is Deb Lacativa cloth and one of my felt houses. I hand-pieced the house’s surround this time instead of what I usually do, which is to plunk the house onto a surface and stitch it down. This made the parts more coherent, but it was awkward to do.
More to figure out.
There’s always more to figure out. This week: a meeting with my sister’s team. In spite of strenuous suggestions from me, no weekend help materialized. K and I went up yesterday. Tidied. Tended. Tried to help N into her new bed (failed). Paid a guy in the building to bring up her Sunday Times (yeah!)
But she was alone today. Not answering the phone.
There are seven reasons my sister might not answer the phone:
1. She’s on the phone, 2. She’s dropped it and can’t pick it up, 3. She’s neglected to put it back on its base and drained the battery, 4. She’s asleep, 5. She’s busy in kitchen or bathroom, 6. She’s fallen and can’t get up, 7. She’s dead.
For years, her failure to answer the phone has produced annoyance laced with mild panic. Voice mail or messaging problematic, for some reason. Once after two days (during a much busier era when I couldn’t just dash up there), I called the police.
This morning after four attempts over two hours, I was really worried. Debating whether to head up there and when.
And then, I got word.
It was #6. She’d fallen and couldn’t get up. Lifeline called 911. Ambulance guys arrived (again). Helped her up. Helped her back into her chair.
Remarkably enough, her sense of humor is intact. She tripped on a cat bowl and managed to, as she put it, “get Kibble up my ass.”
Somehow, the Times ended up on her bed during the tumult of rescue (yeah!)
With all this happening, no wonder I like the control that tidying up offers. This weekend, I tackled socks. Though I originally resisted Kondo’s advice on sock storage, I went with it and guess what? Folding IS better than rolling. I offer you a before and after.