Moving Day(s)

I'm moving my studio. I am a little sad, because I love the light in the garage, and the amount of space and storage options. But the building sits on a slab and it is getting too moist in there, and in the winter, it is too cold for my aging bones. I struggled with the wood stove and the mess the ash made daily, and I'm tired of people at rug shows asking why our booth smelled like a campfire. Pete, who is both a painter and a sculptor, will be moving into the garage (he loves playing with the wood stove), and I am moving to the basement in the new addition, which has radiant heat in the floor.



The move is taking me forever. I am washing every bit of wool I own (which is considerable, I must say). I want to get the wood smoke smell out, and make sure there are no critters brought into the new room. Every time I bring in another pile of wool, Cairo tries to find a way to sit on it. Here he is in a basket of scraps:

And here he is sitting in the wire cubes I'll be using for wool storage:


I'm going through every scrap of fabric, every piece of paper, every button, in an attempt to have a neat an orderly new studio. I'll let you know if I succeed. Needless to say, I'm not taking any bets . . .