I went to pick up some green felt for poker nite at Jo-Ann Fabrics and Crafts. Took one step in and felt like I was hit by a powerful wave of estrogen. Bam!

Kinda like the wave of horny that washes over when I sit in company meetings with the 40+ guys here at work...

It smelled really nice in the store. Smelled like moms and cloth and potpourri. At first I was taken aback... feminity overload. But when I passed the reds and pinks of the Valentine's Day knick-knacks and what-nots, I felt the woman being sucked out of my depths. Lookie all da cute liddle tings wit hearts and shtufff... luv... awwww...

I quickly got a grip on myself. I don't have time for any of this. It's not that I lack the skills or the talent to be a seamstress or a craftsmistress. I have confidence that I can make anything, and make it well, given the motivation. I'm anal. I'm a perfectionist. I'm always editing. I'm creative enough. But I'd never wanna make my own clothes. And I'd never make something for someone when something brand-name, factory-made, mass-produced, and pricey would mean helluva lot more...

Anyway, I asked for two 6x6feet pieces of felt, and guy behind the cutting counter said he could only cut me one 4x2yard piece that I'd have to cut in half myself. He said he couldn't cut me two 2x2yard pieces so matter-of-fact-ly that I didn't bother to question him further. The reason why must be something every woman buying fabric knows and understands but me.

Makes no sense. But who am I to question these things?