Don't you just love the endless possibilities represented in a stack of freshly washed and ironed fabrics? All that potential, neatly folded into dormancy, just waiting to be unleashed. A little bomb of creativity waiting to explode into what will be. Or for the Harry Potter loving amongst you, an Erumpent Horn on Xenophilius' wall, not yet detonated. For now, the little stack and I are exchanging knowing smiles whenever I pass, flirting brazenly, our courtship. Our time will come, my pretties, soon.