My last year in Oregon, I was living with my sisters about 65 miles north of my storage unit, so I had no idea that part of it had flooded through the back until I went to clean it out. Roughly four or five boxes had sat, mildewing through and through, for the better part of two years. I went all the way through the first couple of boxes, trying to see if anything could be salvaged; I saw nothing but clothes. Everything was speckled all the way through with black and smelled horrible. In the end, if I opened a box and saw mold on the top, I threw it out. It wasn’t until I was in the U-haul that I got to thinking about some of the cross stitching stuff I hadn’t found during my repacking process.
Well, now it’s official. I unpacked my last box this morning. Celtic Christmas, Morning Coffee, and Rose Garden are gone, cloth, threads, patterns and all. To be perfectly honest, I’m not too heartbroken over Morning Coffee or Rose Garden. But I’m really kinda tore up about Celtic Christmas. I had the girl mostly done and the beading all down one side of the arch halfway finished. I was INTO that project.
I keep telling myself it wouldn’t have mattered even if I hadn’t thrown it out. They still would have been molded beyond my ability to save. Still…
I think I need to pull out all stops to recover from this. Tonight is going to be a Cheetos night, liberally augmented with at least one hot fudge sundae and a really hokey horror movie on the DVD player. Something kinda good, but kinda awful. Like Deep rising, or She-Creature.
Do they even have marachino cherries in Kansas?