Being fifty-something, I know that magic happens when form and function meet.
If only simply saying that were enough to make it happen.
My most recent crafty adventure (notably, an unguided tour) was a case of misfire, not magic.
Fact is, I have about the same proportion of craft misfires-to-magic as I do when I attempt baking.
Yes, this is a declared craft blackspot.
There. I’ve said it.
It won’t stop me trying though. Here’s how it went.
While scouring a thrift shop looking for silk scarves (following through on an idea sparked by the inspiring Wendy at that recent felt-making class) I came across these couple of colourful, machine-knitted scarves.
Not my style (and I have a gazillion scarves) but I envisioned something else … door sausages.
I know most people refer to these as door snakes, but to me they’ve always been door sausages. I think that harks back to a childhood memory of a door-gap-filler fashioned in the likeness of a dachshund, which we called a sausage dog in our house (we didn’t know how to say or spell dachshund; I had to look it up just now).
It stuck. Probably because door sausage sounds much naughtier and nonsensical than door snake.
Back to the main game: I needed a couple of door sausages for my office. I’m really feeling the cold (I blame that on my old lady thyroid condition, which shoulders the blame for a lot of things in my life) and rather than run the gas central heating all day and waste all that energy, I’m huddling over a column oil heater while I work in the office most days.
I’ve noticed it’s drafty and that there are humongous gaps under the doors. During an energetic renovation, we removed multiple layers of carpets and linings and whatnot to reveal stunning 100-year-old baltic pine floorboards. We also unveiled door to floor gaps of up to 4 centimetres.
A small dog (or a tall dachshund) could slip under there!
When I saw those scarves, I envisioned the solution … and at $1 each, who was I to fly in the face of creativity?
Once home, I measured and found the longer scarf would suffice for both the single and the double door to my office. Even better!
I folded the scarf in half, machine-stitched a seam along one short end and the long edge, turned it back right side out and stuffed it full with cut-up remnants of and old drop sheet.
Well, almost. In hindsight (and hindsight has a lot to answer for) I probably should have invested in a commercial stuffing product, which would have delivered my door sausages a smooth, well-formed look. Instead, they are a tad lumpy and ill-shaped.
But very, very practical. They are malleable (like gold) and I can squeeze them in under the doors to get an airtight fit. They just look a bit … well, lumpy.
I can live with that, because they work a treat and life is choc-a-block full of compromises.
With no drafts, extra sound-proofing and my column oil heater off more than it’s on, I’m happy for form and function to remain strangers, this time.
While form has been left out in the cold on this project, function is warm and toasty in the office with me.