A while ago, something bad happened. Not the worst thing in the world–well, here . . . look.

I broke my Grabbit.

Before you assume this is me scraping the bottom of the bucket for NaNoWriMo, let me say that I have a tendency to form attachments to inanimate objects, particularly items I have “worn in”.

The duvet cover with the rip at the opening, the sewing scissors with the catch in the blade, the spatula with the melt marks–all mine.  And the rattier the thing, the stronger the tie.

I would classify myself as a hoarder except when I watch Hoarding: Buried Alive, I compulsively clean and mark items for donation.  Also, I don’t have to climb over heaps to do anything.  Matter of fact, my home is fairly sparse.

I really didn’t want this incident to be an issue, but it was.  I spent a couple of weeks (not sewing) trying to find a replacement.

As luck would have it, this Grabbit I so easily picked up at a local fabric store is no longer available.  Even online, the price has increased and the variety of colors has been reduced to primary colors (meh).

I ended up with a teal Grabbit, and a deep-seated concern for my mental well-being.