A few years ago, Taffeta and I had a rather messy break-up. There were needles, pins and scissors flying everywhere until I finally threw Taffeta out the door and told it never to come back.

This past week, Taffeta has returned to me, begging me to take it back. And I, like an addict, took it back into my loving arms. I softly caressed it as I cut out the pattern pieces, pinned it, and gently fed it into the waiting jaws of the sewing machine.

Then, like so many times before, it betrayed me. It got caught in my sewing machine, caused the heartbreak of one of my needles, and drew blood and tears from my poor, tortured soul.

But today... today was the last straw. In my distracted state, I had accidentally sewn the wrong piece of fabric to another. As I was ripping the seams out, the beautiful yet unfaithful Taffeta slipped from my grasp and caused me to slice my finger open with the seam ripper. With that I threw it across the room, cursed at it, and told it to be gone before I returned as I stormed from the room to nurse my wounded finger. Unfortunately, I know when I return, Taffeta will still be there, and I will most likely take it back into my arms, apologize, and return to making beautiful things with it.

Oh Taffeta, why do you do this to me? We could be so perfect together if you would just do what I say.