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The Missing Thread

I thought I knew where I kept what I’m looking for, but apparently not.  It’s not there, and it’s not anywhere as near as I can tell.  I pulled the studio apart. I even put things away. Some cleaning happened.  A whole bunch of things I hadn’t even noticed I’d lost were found, and I can’t imagine how I’ve survived without them.  I gave up.  I walked away.  Two weeks later an epiphany struck.  I opened the carriage house cupboards that line the back of my studio, and there it sat prim and proper and reporting for duty.  That was my missing thread.

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