|"Should I tell mommy it smells?"|
The pillowcase dress enthusiasts also fail to mention that pillowcases smell like people. Think about it: you put your big, fat, smelly head on one every night. While you sleep, it absorbs your hair grease. After you mourn all of life’s lost opportunities, it soaks up your muffled tears. I’ll tell you what, this endeavor has helped me see the necessity of weeding out one’s linen closet. Damn the expense, I am not going to sleep on another smelly pillow—or is it pillowcase? If they both smell, I’m screwed. I don’t want to buy more pillows.
Another big downer is that lately I have been feeling less like a mother and more like an unpaid, psychiatric nurse. One of my patients is psychotic and refuses to take her medication; the other is affable, but highly dependent. I feel guilty for feeling this way, but it’s really wearing me down. After they go to bed, I’m too tired to be domestic; I can barely watch Real Housewives. However, I DID manage to bang out another gorgeous mod headband!
|The thread and elastic of my sanity.|
My husband has suggested that we hit the road to sell them to hipster chicks at Lollapalooza, or Coachella or wherever the crazy kids are listening to live music these days. His real agenda, of course, is to get away from our kids! At this rate, I will be lucky if I make it to WXPN headquarters. I hear there are a lot of 40-something moms there who appreciate handmade goods.