A dangerous new obsession
Now I’ve done it. I’ve gone and taken up making jewelry, as if we NEED any more craft, hobby, and art supplies taking up space in this tiny little bungalow. Here’s my first attempt at my newest non-kid friendly hobby:
I decided to keep it simple, for the first piece. It has a certain understated elegance, I believe. You can’t really tell in the picture, but the beads are aren’t black, they’re dark metallic grey, aside from the little silver spacers. And yes, that’s my very own big fat neck.
(edit) Not a clavicle in sight. I always HATED having those bones poking out when I was a scrawny teenager with no boobs, and now it’s stylish? Fuckers. But I digress.
“What’s so non-kid friendly about stringing beads?” you might ask. “Don’t kids do that in crafts in kindergarten?” I’ll tell you. It’s dangerous because I’m doing it. It’s enjoyable, but far too easy. Playing with shiny pretty things until you like the arrangement, and then putting them on a string is fun, but I need more of a challenge. One little necklace, and I’m already contemplating making my own beads, and that will almost certainly involve toxic chemicals, hot things, and sharp things. Had I only thought of it at the time, I would have added hobbies as a reason to not have kids.
This house is full of potentially dangerous stuff; crazy people, paint, glue, solvents, varnish, heat guns, hot glue guns, staple guns, nail guns, and a crucible for melting soft metal. There are shiny colorful things small enough for a rugrat to swallow, and sewing pins, knitting needles, and other sharp implements of every description. Did I mention crazy people?
It’s all I can do to keep my kitties away from hazardous items, but fortunately they generally have enough sense to leave the shit alone.
Well, not always Renfield, the Amazing Retard-O-Matic. He occasionally eats a scrap of yarn, for some incomprehensible retarded cat reason, and later horrifies me by waddling around with a bit of poop-covered string dangling from his asshole. I have more than once been forced to put on a rubber glove and pull a foreign object out of his butt, and trust me, it’s not pleasant for either of us. Just be grateful I don’t have a photo.
Anyway, I have yet another new hobby besides pulling poopy yarn out of my stupid cat’s ass, and I can make a wider variety of nice but inexpensive (and non-poop-coated) gifts for my friends and loved ones… if I can keep any friends after I accidentally poison their kids while they’re visiting.