One evening last week when I was not home, my husband called me to see what my ETA was. “Oh, around 10pm,” I said. Then I noticed he was breathing a little heavily. “What are you up to?” I warily asked. “Oh,” he replies, “I thought it would be nice if I organized and straightened your sewing room so your brother and Beth (sister-in-law) would have their own room to stay in while they’re here next month. We had our own room when we went to visit them–I want to extend them the same courtesy.”
What?! For the record, they will be here for not quite three whole days, and they have a five bedroom, 100 year old brick home, on five acres.
“Okay…. that’s nice, but don’t you want to wait until I get home?”
“Well, I thought I’d get a jump on it.” (They’ll be here in three weeks, the sewing room is 10 x 12)
I’m desperately trying to remember even having a conversation about this–and failing. Needless to say… I went home a little earlier than I had planned. Good thing, too, because he was not “organizing”, nor cleaning. He had gathered some shipping boxes and was THROWING stuff into them willy-nilly, taping them up, and hauling them off to the GARAGE. Quilts in pieces, quilts that need binding, UFO’s. No need to label the boxes, apparently intelligent people just open them up, and look inside when they want to find something! Oh man, my slice quilt is out there–somewhere.
I think that was when I started to foam at the mouth. I may have even considered widowhood. I do know that’s when the world got very fuzzy, and I grabbed the dogs and went for a stomp around the neighborhood. Yes, at 10 o’clock at night, in the dark. Not to worry, I could have probably tackled a grizzly bear–and won–at that moment.
I know his heart is in the right place, and I want to believe he approached this wonderful idea from an innocent mind-set. After all, he does not have any hobbies. It’s not as if I could go straighten his tools in the garage, or box up his model airplane mid-construction to help him understand.
So… I’m giving myself time to calm down, and asking for advice. How would you handle it? What are your tips on training your husband in regards to your sewing room? Can it be done? Are there horror stories out there, like mine?
I applaud your self control and ability to stomp the dogs! It is true that there are two sides to every story BUT! Quilt space is private, even sacred property where one thing out of place (even a messy place) could be a disaster later. I guess I have trained my husband to believe that by quilting my mind is always occupied, I am always happy and there is no time for me to review other areas of our life that might need focus…his wardrobe, the needed renovation, a social life…I have always said quilting keeps me from shopping as well. I took over a big room in our small house for my quilting. Yes, it is selfish, on the other hand my teenage boys know where to find me at all times and I can sit endlessly and listen to their life go by. Advice for you??? While your sewing room is packed up spend as much time with him as possible, sharing time…you know, quality time doing things you love to do together (or at least that you love to do and make him come along.) Maybe at the end he’ll appreciate that your interest gives him space. Failing that, move your sewing stuff into the living room. Good luck! kathy
Your guests have come and gone by now I think. Please let us know what methods you used to work this out.
I wouldn’t have walked the dogs, I would have screamed my lungs out!
Make a small hanging quilt for your door ans word it Quilting Getaway All Trespassers will be Quilted.
If I were married to the above mentioned man, he’d be dead meat! I admire your self-control!!!!!
You need to build a sign for your door…..
Quilt room- No trespassing- Beware!
Menopausal Woman with sharp tools who is not afraid to use them!
Boats,RV’s and garages contain thousands of tools across the country. IF I even thought about moving a fishing rod, tool or accessory, I would get blamed for losing it. Mens toys are expensive but quilting is cheaper than alternatives. I vote to leave my sewing shop alone. Hope you have recovered well and spent a little time putting together a plan for the UFOs’ Good Luck
Your situation has long passed. The ideas that come to mind if I had been in this situation would probably not pass the “blog police” test. Perhaps finding a carton big enough to put him in, triple tape all flap-joins (like the movers do), and then he will be out of the way. Maybe a nice piece of quilting fabric over the top? I like Bavaria’s suggestion too. I suppose to keep the peace I would have resorted to, “I’ll take care of it, dear (like I always do). Go play with your computer.”
O…M…G! What was he thinking? My husband occasionally pokes his head in to my fabric closets or cabinets and asks “what all you got in here”, to which I answer….”nothing you need to know about”. He has learned over the years after several missteps, to act with caution when it comes to my quiltings…..the missteps?
1. He once foolishly suggested that I sell one of my sewing machines (I only have 3). To which I responded that he should sell one of his airplanes….he shut up. They are real airplanes by the way. The kind you get in and fly to another state.
2. He tried to sew a windsock on my best machine one day and broke it. Let me tell you, Hell hath no fury like a woman with a broken sewing machine.
3. He borrowed my ginghers to clip his toenails. Yes. I am serious. I threatened to stab him with them the next time he does that.
Needless to say, we have come to an understanding over the years. He gets a new quilt periodically and I get flown to New Orleans for a 3 day weekend.