Hi, my name is Mamacita, and I'm a craftaholic.
So I finished and delivered the pink checkered blanket today, two days ahead of schedule. I didn't take any pictures, but it looks just like this one that I did earlier this year.
No sooner did I pop the blanket in the washer then I immediately set to work cutting the quilt blocks for the little boy blanket. By the time Daddy-B got home from work on Friday, I'd had the completed checker blanket folded and ready with my laptop case for Monday and I was kneeling on the floor arranging fabric squares. He just shook his head.
We stayed up to watch that tragedy of a basketball game Friday night, during which Daddy-B had the audacity to ask me not to use my sewing machine so he could hear the TV. I sat still on the couch, hands empty, for maybe forty seconds, before digging out my sock project tote. Again, he shakes his head.
By Sunday afternoon, the quilt was almost complete. By this point I was sitting on the couch with the sewing machine humming along (haha, I accidently typed sexing machine... I wonder if that's a Freudian slip?), stash to my left, sock tote to my right, and wondering aloud which project I should pack for my upcoming flight, and Daddy-B finally confronts me with it.
"Babe, I think you have a problem."
I didn't know that crafting could be an addiction. But alas:
[n] an abnormally strong craving
[n] being abnormally tolerant to and dependent on something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming (especially alcohol or narcotic drugs)