It's an illness.... and I think I have it

Monday, May 7, 2007


After an evaluation of my symptoms and a consultation with a long time sufferer I've diagnosed my condition. I come from a long line of others who go before me in this walk of life. My grandmother had it. My mom has serious bouts of this condition and just recently I had a critical flare up. My daughter already shows the early stages of this disease. To the outside world it isn't understood. Fortunately I have a very compassionate husband and friend.

The condition I am speaking of is Remnantaphobia. I probably would not have known that I suffered from this condition if Joann's wouldn't have had their annual "Daffodil Rush" where they have a super clearance on their already clearance fabric. Normally I can show self control in purchasing fabric because it is $3-$6 a yard. But with the combination of my new blooming business, crocheting fabric to make totes and handbags, and fabric on clearance for $1-$2 a yard- I became weak and delusional. I found myself surrounded by the most beautiful fabric I had ever seen. As I made my way to the cutting table where I would have to decide how many yards I wanted to cut off of the bolt of fabric, I started to shake. For some of the bolts the decision was easy- I would take it all. For the bolts that had a lot of fabric on them I became unusually indecisive. I finally sorted all the bolts, stacked them according to how much I was going to purchase from each bolt, had the fabric cut and made my way to the cashier. That's when the dread set in - the telltale symptom of remnantaphobia.

I was shopping with my mom and daughter that particular day so I was able to mask the symptoms with spending time with them and with working on some of our projects that we had started at home.It wasn't until the next morning that I realized how bad I suffered from this frightening illness. that night after dropping off some of my totes at a local Coffee house I made my way back to Joann's to take care of my phobia. You see remnantaphobia is the fear of a remnant. It isn't a traditional phobia-where one can't be around the feared item- it is simply the fear that I would make a remnant of a beautiful piece of fabric. That I would leave a small amount of fabric on a bolt to be left alone with not enough yardage to be made into anything and there it would sit unappreciated and lonely. I then proceeded to locate my leftovers from the day before and gathered them tenderly in my cart and brought them home to be with their mates. They were so happy to be reunited.

About my daughter. She too is making totes and small handbags. I recognized one of the symptoms early in her career of sewing and crafting. She was thinking about what she would do with the money if she sold one of her bags. She said, "I can't wait to sell one of my bags so I can buy more fabric." Not a toy or something she's been wanting for a long time.... MORE FABRIC!!! I decided to diagnose how far along she was in the illness... "How will you know how much to buy?" I asked. "All of it," she proudly declared.