Some day I will have enough space to have a huge dining room table to use for loving gatherings, homemade meals for my family, and projects that threaten to swallow either of the former from happening. For now, I continue as a floor crafter. Been one my whole life. Besides machine sewing (which I have stubbornly attempted to do on the floor- cue cranky, stiff me) I prefer to do most crafting on the floor. And for the majority of my life that has meant a battle between pins being lost in the carpet and my foot, lots of vacuuming I avoid doing for the fact that it's just going to get more minute strings of fabric on it anyways, and inadvertently hot and/or super gluing a number of things to it. My pink carpet as a kid was a wreck. Besides the typical kid spills it included iron burns, beads of dried glue, and the likes. Once during my early floor crafting days I accidentally hit the tip of the hot glue gun with my calf and had to peel it off. That left a mark. A crafty battle scar, if you will. The scar has since faded, but the love of feeling like a kid by plopping myself on the floor and making a mess has not. Maybe it never will.