Preposition Proposition

I’ve done it again… uttered those words that send my family scattering like pins on a hardwood floor: “I’m looking for a piece of fabric.”

With frenzied panic, they fumble for excuses:“Dad wants me to shovel the driveway… now!" “Gotta finish my homework. It's due tomorrow!” “I’m on the phone… long distance!”

Fear not, dear ones. This time, I know exactly where it is:"Go through the kitchen, into the dining room. It’s amongst the sewing things, on the chair, nearest the door. It’s in that pile of stuff, under the magazines, between the homespun plaids and batiks."

Uh oh, I’m beginning to lose them. When it comes to tracking down fabric, they’re like puppies or young children. They can only follow one command at a time.

"You can’t miss it… it’s red… red toile." Oh no, I’ve confused them with a technical term. Better redirect. "It's Christmas fabric… with scenes of Santa."

“Found it!” I hear someone cry triumphantly.

“Great! Now can you find the coordinating prints?”

They have glazed looks. I know better than to push my luck.