it's not as bad as seeing how sausage is made, but it ain't pretty.

I'm overhauling my work space this weekend. Ugh! I couldn't bear to take a before picture, but here is a during shot:

My work room (what would be a normal person's dining room) is 10 by 11 feet wide, and I think I've actually come up with a plan to sew comfortably and, by moving a few key items, be able to shoot pictures in here. Ha! The Organizational Gods are laughing at me. I'm used to it. I ignore their hearty guffaws.

The clothing rack on wheels, where I sort source material for current projects, has a chunk of bright white fabric that gets tossed over it. When pivoted out it becomes the light diffuser for my half-assed photo booth.

By the way, these racks are the best thing ever. You can get a crappy Martha Stewart rack at KMart for about 60 bucks. Some day, without issuing out a plaintive warning call, it will crumble. For 52 dollars you can buy a real rack that you could use as a support beam in your house. Plus when you push it around you feel like you're in the garment district in New York. Well, I do anyway, but as Mr. Lentil said this morning, after seeing me stomp on a cardboard box: "You have a flair for the awkwardly dramatic." (Note to self: use this phrase on your next business cards.)

The only flaw in my plan? I have to kick Mr. Lentil's computer out of the other corner. But really, how can someone who keeps a drumset in our living room complain about a little thing like that?