Our house is lovely and open plan, with not much furniture and wooden floors. I love it, but we’ve been been looking for a rug for a while now to try and make it seem more cosy. It’s been months and we still haven’t found one we both like. I even agreed to break my Ikea virginity, which was on the whole a fairly traumatic experience and just made me think of Fight Club. But don’t worry, I fought the consumerist treadmill by pushing my trolley around the wrong way. Yeah, I’m a rebel.
Anyway, I think I was going somewhere with this…
Right, yes. So this morning I gave up on the quest to buy the perfect one and started to crochet one. I was waiting for my lift to work, drumming my fingers on the table when I though ‘I know, I’ll cut all this fabric I’ve been randomly hoarding into strips and crochet a rug.’ If I had been reading, as I normally do when I’ve gotten up too early, I would not have had this idea. Which makes it a strong argument either in favour of or against boredom*, depending on how you feel about crocheted rugs.
I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about making a rug before, as generally I believe in the power of home made things over bought. (The exception being cooking, which you’ll understand if I’ve ever tried to make you dinner.) They’re one of a kind and mean more because rather than just handing over your credit card you’ve sweated over something a bit fiddly that’s taken you a lot longer than you expected it would. Plus you can do the smug “Oh yeah, I made it myself” comment when somebody says they like it.
This morning I got as far as chain-stitching the end. But don’t fear, I will update you with pictures soon.
*As in, you need to have moments of boredom to lead to creative thinking.