I went to a fabric shop today, only a few streets away but for some reason I’ve never been there before. And I bought up! There was a great end-of-roll box. I also bought three pieces off the roll.
It's a lovely shop but I had an awful justifying conversation with the shopping owner about buying so much, blah, blah, spending money, blah. It was a perfectly nice conversation with very lovely person but I hated it. I wish I had basked in the wonderfulness of buying lovely fabric and not worried so much. I haven’t bought fabric at a quilt shop for over three years. I feel silly that I was angsting over something that was actually giving me pleasure. I felt like I was having a panic attack over fabric!