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.
