Way back in November, my son asked me to sew a national competition badge on his favorite marching band sweatshirt. This morning, as I pulled the often-worn hoodie once again out of my clothes dryer with a load of wash that needed to be folded, I realized that two months have passed, and I still have not honored his request.
When he asked me to add the patch to his shirt, I told him to put the badge next to my sewing machine so I wouldn’t forget. The patch is still there. I haven’t forgotten. I just haven’t done the work.
Each time I sit down to sew, I see the patch and slip it underneath other sewing projects only to see it rise and reappear at the top of the to-do list. When I see it surface once again, I casually slip it back underneath another new mound of work. This could go on for years.
Why can’t I get started on that patch? All I need is a needle and thread, a pair of scissors and 10 minutes in a 24-hour day. I cringe every time I see that patch, not because the work is difficult, but because the work hasn’t been done.
This morning, the weight finally became too heavy. The irrational burden of hand sewing a tiny 3-inch patch onto a shirt had to go. I did the task, checked it off my list, and I’m all smiles.
The feeling of accomplishment is wonderful! The happiness on my son’s face when he sees that the patch finally has been sewn onto his sleeve will be even better.
Worrying two months over something that took five minutes to complete makes no sense. From now on, Monday will be my anti-procrastination day — a chance to get started or finish simple sewing projects that I have been avoiding. I’m marking the new routine on my calendar.
I’m ready to sew.