In the Doghouse

Not me. No sir. I'm not in trouble. No, that would be my beloved.

When I was a kid, my mom kept a lock on her sewing scissors. She knew we would grab them to cut any number of things, mostly paper.

Once again, I should have followed her example.

Aaron needed a pair of scissors the other day. Now, he could have asked me to find him some (we've actually got a big ol' box in the art cabinet with at least three pair). But no, he just used the first pair he could find.

Ahem. My sewing scissors.

Was he cutting fabric? Nope. Was he cutting paper? Nope. Was he cutting tape? No again.

What did he cut?

Fiberglass.

Do you know what fiberglass will do to a pair of scissors?

If I wanted to cut in wavy lines for the rest of my life, he'd have done me a favor. And the scissor sharpening people won't be close by until mid-November. Me no like.

So, in the end, he did do me a favor. I got to order a pair of Ginghers and they'll be here on Tuesday. So life isn't so bad. I just couldn't cut out a certain Halloween costume this weekend like I'd planned. Sigh. Friday. I'll get to it Friday.