Monday, January 21, 2008

:: MYOFB, As The Kids Might Say ::

Reds

This is my particular brand of crazy: when I am at a fabric store buying, you know, fabric, I become physically uncomfortable when the cutting lady asks me what I am making.  Squirmy.  I don't want to tell her.  To me, this seems like a huge invasion of my privacy.  I don't ask you what color your poop is and I don't want you to ask me what I am going to make with my fabric, OK, lady?  I realize that this is completely insane.  That doesn't make it any better.

5 comments:

calegar January 21, 2008 at 3:14 PM  

LOL - I know exactly what you mean! I don't like to be asked either! Thought I was alone on that one!

Janet January 21, 2008 at 5:27 PM  

I can't relate to the fabric context, but I can't stand it when my husband lingers over my shoulder when I'm typing anything. It drives me crazy. MYOFB is right.

mommystory January 21, 2008 at 6:51 PM  

Drives me crazy, too. Especially when I was honest and said I was making an Elizabethan court gown. That always got me weird looks and further questions. I should have lied and said I was making throw pillows.

Julie January 23, 2008 at 6:44 AM  

It's funny because I realize now what the F in MYOFB probably refers to for all of YOU, but I was actually thinking of it as "ming your own fabric business." Usually I'm the first one to head right to the gutter but this time, I'm innocent as a forget-me-not or a lily. Fresh as a daisy. Ha!

Emily January 28, 2008 at 10:07 AM  

I understand totally--I feel like I can't tell anyone until it's finished--it's all mine until then, and maybe not even then if I don't like the way it turns out. MYOB.

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