In case I haven't shared or you hadn't noticed but I am now an employed lobster-girl. Three jobs, I have (as Yoda would say or maybe not but I like saying it in Yoda's voice) and so my weeks are now really wonky.
I have my craft writing which is what I would LOVE to do full-time but haven't figured out how just yet, my part-time preschool gig and the thrift store. Now, the thrift store job is a mixed bag. It's hard work, exhausting really and even a tad bit boring at times. I enjoy most of my co-workers and there is that added bonus of scoping out all that thrifty goodness. But, before you get too excited and envious, note that there are rules, STRICT rules for working at this thrift and one of them is that you are not allowed to shop on a day you work. Hiding items as well, it goes without saying, is a major no-no so imagine my crafty-dorky heart when on my very first day I spied a cluster of crocheted hangers. SWOON!
And, dork that I am, I seriously pined for them and somewhat manically checked up on them throughout the day as I passed by their temporary home. I'd cringe every time another person wandered their way and thought oh-me, oh-my I do so hope I can make them mine. I mean really, I was WAY TOO OCCUPIED with their yarny-goodness. By the end of the shift, my very first shift (after which I had managed to create a display using only paperclips to anchor the goods down but that is another story) I was beyond pooped and tired and walking all crooked as I longingly passed by the hangers one last time. That night, as I crashed into sleep, I imagined how I would use those darn hangers.
The rest of the week however was nutty and full and then we had the goose for another week and so, two weeks passed before I had another shift and imagine my surprise and utter excitement to see all nine hangers STILL in their temporary home as if not one person had bothered to bother with them. Being that I would be working for the next two days, I once again anxiously imagined an invisibility bubble hovering over them so no one else would see them in all their candy-colored glory. The first free day after those shifts, I made a mad-dash for the shop and shoppity, shopped to my heart's content grabbing the hangers first before the skirt my co-worker tried to pull as she thought it was both ugly and looked like a tablecloth. Don't worry about that though, I made sure to tell her I have been known to turn ugly tablecloths INTO skirts and that I really wanted it so she left it on the rack just for me. Now I know I am thought of as the weird new girl (hee-hee).
All this while, through all this hanger angst, I seriously was thinking I physically lived in my bubble of a crafty blogging world. A bubble where those hangers would have been snatchity-snatched up if not involved in a mini bout of fisticuffs. A bubble where I would indeed be mourning the loss of such happiness. A bubble where others, not just me, would have looked at them and seen a lovely story of crafty usefulness. The humor of my imagined bubble is not lost on me as I spouted hanger poetry to those around me who looked askance at the jumble of dull yarn woven over old wooden hangers that smelled of mothballs and reminded them of their Aunt Fern and her cut crystal bowl of puffed peppermint balls. I would have loved to have had an Aunt such as that. Since I do not, I will happily give her hangers a new home...after I take far too many photos of them first...
