I recently chose to take an inventory of the pin cushions in my house. My mum visited and said, ‘I could find loads of pins, Karen, but not a single needle.’ What are you saying? Then I looked closer…
- Three – ahem! – pin cushions in reaching distance of my sewing machine.
- A pin cushion on a side table beside my dressmaker’s dummy.
- Pins in the head of my dressmaker’s dummy, but they don’t count.
- Three more pin cushions on my office desk. Because you never know when you might need to pierce a laptop with a pin.
- Two pin cushions atop a fireplace. I don’t think I’ve touched either of them in six months.
- A pin cushion in my bedroom. Like, obviously.
I’m not even going to touch on the pins that I have found in my dressing gown, bra, bathroom, behind the sofa, bed and carpets. I shall give special mention to the pin I found on my front path. And I’m desperately trying not to think about the pin I recently spotted on the pavement outside our house. I have a creeping suspicion it might belong to me…
Sound familiar, anyone?