But when I saw the mysterious Fabric.com box as I walked through the door after sewing class, everything changed. I suddenly had the feeling that I needed to call Candy Finnigan and book a suite at the Red Lion Inn because my episode was next up on Intervention. This was serious. How much fabric did I really need, anyway? I don't buy anything I don't love, but apparently, I have a lot of love to give and it's clearly exclusive to textiles. I had more than I needed. I had more than I would ever use. I had more than sweatshops in India. And I suddenly mourned for the children with tiny fingers I never had.

It took me about two hours to even get close to the box because waves of nausea rose within me if I caught a glimpse of it. Eventually, curiosity and my proclivity as a fabric whore got the better of me. I sliced open the box as soon as my husband was out of the room and pushed the cardboard flaps aside. The contents were encased in a plastic bag, and I eagerly riffled through it to see what I had bought and no memory of buying. Was it silk? Was it the piqué I had waffled over for several weeks? Was it the polka-dot voile I'd been waiting for a sale on?

And then, there it was. A pair of eyes. A hairy chin. A large forehead, not unlike a former boyfriend's.

Details

Fabricated

It was an embroidered portrait of Bigfoot, accompanied by a vintage pattern for a Western shirt, and bags and bags and bags of vintage class buttons. The card inside wished me a happy birthday and was signed by my friend Lore in California, who, herself, is almost a bigger fabric whore than I am. And who had taken the opportunity to hide her own slutty fabric ways by sending the evidence to my house.

But it's okay. I took a deep breath, exhaled3 a big puff of relief, and thought that the pair of earrings I got her for Christmas would fit perfectly inside the napping box.

Fabric.com

SAS Fabrics by the Pound (1111 E. Indian School Rd., 602-279-2171, and 1700 E. Apache Blvd., Tempe, 480-966-7557)

• For more hilarity — and tales of obsession — by Laurie Notaro, check out her essays and novels at laurienotaro.com

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4 comments
BimboKay
BimboKay

Heather...Phoenix area homes don't have basements, but usually the smallest home has a back yard big enough for a TuffShed or two...or more! (Kay in Tempe)

heather
heather

ha ha! You are so right about the sales clerks at SAS.

Fabric hoarding wouldn't be such a problem if Phoenicians built homes with basements....imagine the beautiful shelved possibilities!

BimboKay
BimboKay

Boy do I relate...especially to the packages (any packages from any company). They arrive and I wonder what-the-hell..... Happened moments ago while reading this article. Two boxes arrived from Amazon, one medium and one large. I had to look on their website to see what it was: 24 five-oz bags of coffee candy. Big Lots! continually runs out of this yummy candy and I found it for LESS on Amazon! I love every word Laurie Notaro writes!!

 
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