In 7th or 8th grade, home economics was a required class. One of the projects required was an awful, blasted sweatshirt that would try to take the title of Bane of My Existence. As a class, we reviewed how the sewing machine worked and studied the meaning of pattern markings. We learned about the wretched task before being set loose to work at our own speed. I watched as, one by one, my classmates completed their garments. Still, I sat with the too soft, cheap, obnoxious red fabric in pieces. It's not that I did nothing during our class time. I was, in fact, doing the same thing every day - beginning the project.