The elements are coming together, sir.

Do you know how exhausting it is to make your hobbies fit you just right? I recently claimed the front bedroom as my own so that I could keep all my machinery, yarn, guns (the harmless kind that aid in adhering) and scraps in one place. What started as pure joy in having a Kraft Zimmer (I'll explain the name later) quickly progressed to practical paralysis. I suddenly needed more stuff to make the room work, and thinking about it took a lot of energy. I knew that the first step was to downsize and categorize my stuff, and figure out how to make cute boxes and baskets from Target fit all the essentials. Well, I skipped the first part and just headed straight to Target and bought some cute stuff. Lucky for me, though, I was home sick one day and got so bored that I cleaned out the closet and figured out a way to rearrange the entire room in a way that left a nice big hole for a sewing table. I even vacuumed and dusted the window sills.

So, step two was to type "desk" into Craigslist for a week straight and to e-mail strangers in the greater Spokane area. I knew exactly how high I needed my sewing table to be, and how much leg room I needed in order to work the machine without cramping. I needed it to be a certain length, too, or else my fabric would be falling all over the place. So I bought a desk (with cedar drawers!) that seemed to fit all my criteria from an estate sale. (Creepy/sad line from the guy who sold it to me, as I handed him the cheque: "The estate thanks you.")

I could have stopped there and started on my sewing projects. But when I get an idea in my head of what I think will make my craft-life easier, I really go after it. Even if it means enlisting my boyfriend to wrap me in three layers of duct tape to get it.

I wanted a dress form THIS badly.

After two-and-a-half hours, three-and-a-half rolls of duct tape, a chocolate soda, tender fingers and a stiff neck, I had a custom-made dress form that accurately depicts my broad shoulders and disproportionate waist. I got the instructions from my Custom Knits book. But we had to scoff at the text that refers to the person taping you as the "helper." Your incredibly patient and good-natured boyfriend "helper" actually does the whole thing while you stand still and try to help him cut strips of duct tape until your shoulders are too bound up. By the time he was finishing up the second layer, I was becoming cold and sweaty and uncharacteristically claustrophobic. I also hadn't even considered the fact that I may need to use the bathroom at some point.

Fortunately, I didn't faint, and Joel still has fingerprints. After marking the waistline and then extracting myself from the form (by cutting down the back), we taped it back up and filled the thing with a big package of polyfill. And now I have a duct tape replica of myself to help make the Kraft Zimmer complete.

I call it the Kraft Zimmer because a.) having a "craft room" makes me feel like I should be bedazzling some denim outfits, and b.) "Kraft Zimmer" means "Power Room" in German, and having a room like this does give me a good deal of power and control over what I wear and what I make, doesn't it?

But then there's the wallpaper. Don't get me started.