loathe

"I loathe narcissism, but I approve of vanity."  -- Diane Vreeland

As I prepared the shipment of my work for the San Jose Museum of Quilts and Textiles, I reflected on those activities I find particularly loathsome.  Packing art ranks high on the list. 

I put off these and similarly detested activities until the very last minute.  Some activities can be dangerous, such as cleaning gutters.  Others are icky.  Picking up dog poop is one that comes to mind especially if left for a day and its gone mushy in the rain. But then there are those activities which don't have the ick or danger factor, they are just tedious.  Packing art, washing windows, and balancing a checkbook  fall into this category.  I'm no Martha Stewart.  I don't revel in organization.  My office is a declared urban excavation site.  Anything requiring the minutiae of details to complete makes me a bit nutty.

I commiserated with a friend today when she wrote she was going crazy putting together a conference.  She's an idea gal.  She dreams and she dreams big.  But those little details that come with big dreams - she'd rather leave them to others. 

This must be why I loathe packing my art.  The art is made.  The fun part is over.  Besides, every time I pack my art I end up with a zillion paper cuts and those horrid Styrofoam peanuts clinging like mad to every surface in my studio.  You'd think they'd come up with a better solution.  Maybe then I would finally like packing.