It feels so nice to putter again. I’ve just had a good hour or so of puttering about the apartment. When school is on, I don’t have time, and as soon as the winter break began, I got completely ill with a bad cold. Then I left town for two weeks, so had not had a good putter in ages.
After being away, it’s like a little ritual of attention, re-establishing the familiar order of things, adjusting the arrangement of the space in small ways (or bigger ways when, as now, my husband has been dealing with electrical problems and a daily parade of workmen in my absence.)
It’s very gratifying to get a bunch of normal, necessary things done, like wiping down the kitchen, putting away dishes, starting laundry, unpacking, making a grocery list. Nothing the least bit remarkable, but in the week before I left I was too sick to do any of it, which made me a little crazy, and so just being able to productively putter is so nice.
And the sooner I’ve done the right amount of puttering, the sooner I can dive back into spinning and weaving, which projects are calling out to me enticingly.
Then I can also talk about all the things I saw in London, like 5000-year-old linen,
and a spontaneous demonstration of North Ronaldsay fleece de-hairing in the British Museum atrium, courtesy of Sarah Wroot.