I have a problem, I must admit.
Admitting it is the first step I hear, but I may not be ready for the mockery that will ensue.
I'm a fabric addict.
I see pretty things and I end up with at least a yard of it. Any pretty thing,no matter if it has a fate yet, no matter if it probably will never match anything precisely. No matter if it never feels the fresh air for the next three years, but I must have it.
I think its hereditary though, so perhaps I can blame my mother?
After all, I raided her stash last weekend :)