I am having an argument with my husband.

We used to call it “having a discussion,” but the kids are gone, and why not call a spade a spade?

My husband wants his closet back. He is making the case that his personal space in the house is so limited already – desk, garage, two shelves for albums we never listen to, stereo cabinet, the utility closet in question and the attic, his most sacred space – that to give up even a part of his domain would be unconscionable.

And I know he is right, but I stand my ground nonetheless.

“I need half of that closet for my crafting supplies.”

He laughs, mockingly. “First of all,” he says, “you don’t have half. You have the whole thing! And secondly, you don’t craft! You haven’t done anything crafty in years!”

“Oh yeah?” I say. “What about that decoupaged plate?”

“You made it in a class that cost $20. After which you purchased over $100 worth of paper for future decoupage projects. None of which you followed through on!”

This is like a knife to the gut.

“That’s not true!” I rebut. “What about the little table on the screened porch?”

“You mean the one with the fake garden seed packets on it that you never finished? The one that’s peeling because you never varnished it?”

“Alright, sir!” I counter. “What about my knitting? That’s a craft!”

“You haven’t knitted in two years, remember? You said you weren’t going to knit another scarf until you learned to knit a hat.”

“Um. Excuse me. But the hat class was on Thursday nights. Did you want me to miss ‘E.R.’?”

He replies, exhausted: “I’m just saying, let’s get rid of it. I need somewhere to store my paint.”

Get rid of my crafting supplies? Hmm. I chew on that for a while. What a statement that would make. The ultimate admission that I am never going to be Martha Stewart, so why even try? Besides, the only Martha Stewart project I ever pulled off was an iced vodka bottle with embedded mint and citrus slices. (And I must say, it was a huge hit.)

The possibility of such a purge is tempting. As I ponder, he continues. He smells blood.

“Think about it. We could have a ‘Going Out of Crafting’ sale. You like themes! Put everything out on big tables. Serve lemonade. We could probably fund our summer vacation!”

I swear I see dollar signs in his pupils.

“Okay, sir. I’ll do it!” (Did I say that out loud?)

For the next five hours, I empty the closet of paper and beads and scrapbooking supplies, including eight pairs of scissors with different cutting patterns. More paper and Elmer’s glue and fabric scraps from God knows when. Foam and felt and paint and pipe cleaners. All gauges of wire. And the yarn, man, the yarn! A dozen unfinished knitted scarves! The years flash by with each unopened Butterick pattern, unused macrame book and unpainted wooden goose I find. And I think: It probably is time to move on. I give. Holly Hobby, I’m not.

The smile on my husband’s face affirms it. I am doing the right thing.

I box everything up and take it to the garage. He wastes no time moving in his paint cans.

As he busies himself organizing the paint by color, brand and container size, I know he has forgotten all about the big sale. And that’s just as well.

Because as soon as he leaves the house, those boxes in the garage are going straight to his precious attic. I may not be Martha, but I’m just not ready to give up the dream.

– Cathy Hamilton is host of “Home & Away” on Sunflower Broadband Channel 6 and a 50-year-old empty-nester. Events recounted here may be embellished, exaggerated or completely made up because she can’t remember squat anymore.