I must confess, I came home last night. I hadn't had anything to drink because I had done about 5 trips into town to get more stuff, and I figured there was bound to be more. And then, later in the night, Steph "Boobs" Vine was feeling a bit sick and considering taking her fiancee's ute and driving it the 40km to her house, leaving him with nowhere to sleep, and the wet grass had soaked through my boots, so at about 11 we decided to head home. She pulled the, I'm not tired, lets watch a movie/falling asleep on the couch before the end of the opening credits routine, and I downloaded and watched a couple of new episodes of Mythbusters. It wasn't a bad party, the band was a bit shit, and it was too cold for us skinny girls later in the night, but everyone seemed to be having fun.
Which leads to: Today.
Since most of my friends are farmers, or grew up on farms, they all wake at ungodly hours of the morning. After passing out at 4am, they will be up and about and ready to continue drinking at 6am. I of course, would struggle to find the motivation to get out of bed at 6am even if I'd had an early night the previous one, so I settled for 8.30am.
It was horrible. There was a screeching alarm and it was cold out and I immediately had an asthma attack. Nature's way of saying I should sleep in, I think. And of course, when we got there, everyone was standing around having a beer and psyching themselves up for the drive home (some people had come 300km, as opposed to 3) so I went and got maccas, and bought out the bitchin' chair and ate Jatz biscuits as some people left and some people got drunk all over again. I'm not gunna begrudge them that. It was a lovely day, and they were mainly drinking their own alcohol, with only a slight fortification of Casey's Bundy cans with my Jamesons. I considered getting my drink on, but I had quilting to do. So I came home, ate a big bowl of Milo with a little bit of icecream, and got stuck in.
Quilting, the process of sewing through the three layers of fabric and batting, is really boring. I am not a quilter, in that I don't "quilt" (by the above description) for fun. Quilting is just a means to an end, a way to convert the pretty pieced tops and backs, which are what I enjoy doing, into a nice snuggly quilt. Maybe if I had a longarm machine, I could turn it into an artform, but sewing from one side to the other, turning it around, and doing it again, just following seam lines and hoping it doesn't bunch up too much, feels a bit like a chore. The fun part for me is keeping a running percentage of how far I've done, but then, I am odd like that, and I also like to count the number of sewing lines I have remaining when I'm assembling too. I guess it makes me feel like I am getting somewhere, even though it looks like I've sewn a million lines, but I still have a billion more to go.
Unfortunately, I realised after 4 pm that I didn't actually have anything to bind it with anyway, so it wasn't gunna get done. But the bloody quilting is out of the way, for that one at least, and now there's only 4 more to quilt* before I've done half my WIPs, and can get to something new.
Still, since the quilting was done I could take it to Helen's and let Bob have a stomp on it, which is the important thing really, and they don't need a binding for that. Then I had an over-tired wonder if the lights were straight (I'm assured they are) and was told to go home, download a show called Wilfred (there's a dog right, who's a man in a dog suit, but he's actually a dog, and everyone thinks he's a dog, and he acts like a dog, but there's this one bloke who knows he's a guy in a dog suit, and talks to him. Seems a bit odd, but Helen assures me it's brilliant) and have an early night. It's downloading, ETA lunchtime tomorrow, and, y'know, I may just go to bed.
*and bind. 4 more to quilt and bind, and another two after Helen's that just need their binding done, and then I can get on with making some more WsIP.