The Great Document Hunt (or How to Accidentally Spring Clean Your Entire Life)

You know that moment when you need that one really important piece of paper—the kind that isn’t just a receipt for teabags or a scribbled shopping list from 2018? No, I mean the type of document that, without it, your carefully laid plans come to a screeching halt. Well, dear reader, let me tell you a tale—a cautionary tale, a slightly ridiculous tale—of how I lost (and eventually found) a Very Important Document.

It all started innocently enough. I needed the form for our upcoming appointment with the registrar—you know, the lovely official bit where John and I announce our intent to get married. Romantic, right? Except instead of gazing into each other’s eyes over a celebratory cuppa, I was elbow-deep in the mystery abyss of the kitchen junk drawer.

Then came the filing drawer. Then the sewing room cupboards. Then every single drawer in the house. Did I find the document? No. But I did find:

• That charger for the long-dead phone I swore someone must have borrowed.

• Three different kinds of needles I forgot I’d bought.

• A mysterious key that I’ve been too scared to throw away in case it opens the Gates of Craft Heaven.

Naturally, having turned the house upside down like a determined—but ultimately bewildered—badger, it was time to invade the studio.

Ah, the studio. A place of beauty and creativity. A sanctuary of threads, textures, and total chaos.

As I pulled open each drawer, cupboard and box, I was taken on a delightful archaeological dig through the ages of my textile life:

• Kits I had every intention of using (some still pristine in their packaging like miniature time capsules of ambition).

• Half-made books, probably destined to become masterpieces in 2020. Spoiler: they did not.

• Incomplete sketchbooks whispering promises of inspiration.

• And note after note full of ideas for work, workshops, world domination via free motion embroidery—you name it.

It was both exhilarating and ever-so-slightly exasperating. Like catching up with all your past selves over a cup of tea and realising none of them tidied up after themselves.

But still no document.

There was only one place left. The shed.

Now, the shed is not just a shed. It’s an annex of organised chaos. A haven of show storage, spare threads, old blankets (why do I have so many old blankets?), and Things That Might Come in Handy Someday™.

With a sigh, I rolled up my sleeves and waded in. Out came the boxes. Out came the mystery bags. And just as I was starting to wonder if I’d imagined the document entirely… there it was.

Tucked inside a canvas tote bag filled with magazines and forgotten books, like it had been living its best introverted life, away from the clutter and kerfuffle.

Reader, I could have wept. Actually, I think I did weep. The relief was IMMENSE. Why? Because in just two weeks, John and I are off to declare our intent to marry (hurrah!), and in five weeks—holiday! Real holiday. Bags packed, passports checked, important document now in a Very Safe Place (John has it).

Of course, now I have to deal with the trail of destruction I’ve left in my wake. The studio looks like a textile hurricane hit it. The shed resembles a very colourful jumble sale. And the house? Let’s just say the cupboards are now suspiciously better organised.

So next week’s mission? The shed gets the deep clean. Or maybe I’ll accidentally start a new project with the half-finished sketchbook I rediscovered. Who knows?

Moral of the story: If you're ever struggling with motivation to tidy up—just lose something important. You'll be amazed what you find.

And no, I’m not buying a filing cabinet or two.