The other day while looking for something (and, incidentally, this is how I spend a good portion of each day: looking for something), I ran across a couple of patterns for Valentine's Day projects that I had pulled out while looking for something else a month or so before. [see how that works?]
Luckily they had not worked their way down too far in The Pile only to be rediscovered after 2/14! So I started to work on one and stitched a little Quaker heart. I stitched it over one thread so it would be fairly small. That's a dime there beside it. I think I'll probably make it into either a scissor fob or a little pinkeep and give it away as a Valentine.
But that's finishing work. Ugh. Finishing. Why is finishing never as much fun as doing?
"There are two kinds of people, those who finish what they start and so on"