Domesticity? Surely Not!

I have no illusions.  I know full well I am no domestic goddess and never will be.  That particular gene somehow passed me by completely and was seemingly replaced by the much more fun (but often less useful) creativity gene.

So how is it that I find myself not just pegging out washing . . .

 but blogging about pegging out washing . . .

 and even photographing it?!

 Who would have ever thought it?

Is there perhaps a domestic gene in there, carefully hidden under all that creative . . . er, mess?

Don't hold your breath.  Actually, that washing on the line is not just washing - these are some lovely fat quarters with delicious tiny prints, bought on a whim, with no real idea of what I am going to make with them. 

I'm having fun playing with these fabrics and deciding what they will be.  They just needed a wash to shrink and soften the cotton and after dancing on the line for an afternoon they are now sitting patiently and waiting to be stitched up into lovely things.

My main problem now is sifting through all the ideas these fabrics have stirred up in that domestic-free zone I call my head.