There was a super awesome sale at my very favorite quilt store today. Fat quarters for a dollar! And it was madness, madness I say! I had to chew a woman's arm off to get the fabric I wanted. I walked over small children with no regard for consequence. I pushed people aside, swinging my basket and purse like dangerous weapons, gouging out eyes with my car keys. Blood splattered the floors, family members cried, I laughed with the sheer joy of the battle, bathing in the carnage that is War of the Fat Quarters.
Possibly some of what I just said didn't actually happen. I won't say what.
So, I have my first two tests of the semester this week, Microbiology tomorrow and Sociology the day after, and in true procrastination fashion, I decided that instead of studying, I would arrange my new fat quarters in lovely formations. If I'm not doing that, I'm admiring my new pencil bag that I made all by myself.
I was feeling pretty nasty last week, thanks to a sick husband that whined and moaned for me to take care of him, then passed on whatever he had because after all, I did say in sickness and in health. He's going to wring everything he can out of those vows. So, I cultured whatever was in my throat in Micro, and after growing it on a blood agar plate (made with sheep's blood, which is awesome and makes me feel a little Pagan) it looked pretty nasty. Saw a doctor on Friday, got on antibiotics, and when the prof took a look at the culture yesterday, she said something along the lines of "I'm thinking I'm really glad you got drugs for this because whatever it is, it looks mean. Could be pneumonia."
I was never more happy to throw away that plate. I was afraid it was going to eat me.
So then, what should I do with all my nifty new fabric? The option of stuffing it in my shelves and forgetting about it is always a viable choice (and the most likely), but I thought I'd allow for some enlightenment from the crowd.