UFO's are attacking my home and my conscience. Unfinished objects lurk throughout the house. They occupy every inch of negative space, especially areas best left void to invite occasional cleaning. The UFO's are multiplying as fast as Tribbles* and firing my own guilt buttons. Extermination is not an option.
A solution is not as simple as one might suppose. It's said we can justify anything. I can procrastinate in the blink of an eye with instant validation. Although my intention to complete each and every project is genuine, I am too easily diverted to the next point of interest. It's not that I get bored. It's that the exhilirating temptation to learn something new or the irresistible opportunity to increase my stash is overpowering. Like anyone who's ever faced Borg* or Ferengi*, I've come to know the futility of resistance and the righteousness of greed.
I'm at war with the nagging notion that I should somehow manage the chaos of my creative pursuits. Doesn't crafty clutter reflect my out of the box approach to any artform once I'm comfortable with basic techniques? Isn't that why I'm drawn to crazy quilting and freeform needlework? Don't I need the array of my stash so I can spot what I need at a glance? And don't supplies need to be handy, ergo, everywhere? I don't need an excuse to put off tidying; I simply destest housework. I resent even the most essential chores because they keep me from doing something, anything, else that I'd enjoy more.
I'll deal with the UFO's. Even though I know one will replace another as fast as I can finish,
I will finish them. And therein lies justification for finding a new project, more stash.