Two stacks of stuff that seem to grow much more quickly than they diminish are the junk mail that needs to be sifted through just in case there might be some scrap of interest (one time I found a crisp dollar bill for some unsolicited survey) and to remove the name and address from before moving it to the recycle box, and the other is the mountain of mending which grows every time I thumb through the assortment of choices in the closet.

Ah, this top would be great to wear today and pulling it off the hanger I discover that the only button on the front has gone missing.  I’ve also found that wash cloths like to unravel around the perimeter of the fabric and if one doesn’t catch the movement before the whole thing turns to threads, there could be a lot fewer facecloths than towels in the cupboard.

A few years ago I decided to turn the edges of the cloths under, rolling as little material as possible and sewing by hand in my tiniest possible stitches, the washcloth looks almost new, but for a slightly thicker rim than it originally had.

Feeling a bit bogged down by life last week, I looked at a scrappy white washcloth and began the time consuming business of rolling the edge and stitching it down.  For some reason I found the task gratifying and as I progressed from one side, around the corner and down the next side I began to feel good about getting this done.  One of the ways to keep the plasticity of the brain, I had heard, besides computer games and taking new routes, is sewing.  At the very least, I was able to add a useful item back into the linen closet.

As to the junk mail, I did shrink that heap by half and filled the box to take to the church paper dumpster, so that was a relief, and the rest is awaiting my next burst of energy.


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