(Never will I forget the time she complained about a homemade quilt from her MIL because she "doesn't need another &^%* blanket!")
And right there is where you lost me.
Because, it doesn't matter that someone went to all that work, etc., etc.--I don't need another damned blanket! Did I ask them to make me one? No. Do I have *room* for it? No. Is anybody cold in my house? No.
And in my case, do I even *like* homemade quilts? Probably no.
Or do I like the colors/pattern they chose? Probably no.
But now I'm supposed to attach way MORE value to it simply because someone made it for me. I can't donate it to the Goodwill--it'll cause a family rift. Anywhere I put it, I will trip over it.
And every time I see it, I'll be reminded that:
1) I hate it
2) it's in the way
3) I'm a horrible awful nasty ungrateful person because I don't love and cherish it.
And I resent that.
So I pray that nobody gives me anything homemade like that.
I have a crocheted afghan my DH's grandmother made for me. She loved me. But it didn't fit the bed--it was the wrong size. She took it back and added to it so it would. But now it looks funny, because she just added stripes going the other way.
I love the way it feels, but it's the wrong color, and it's funny-looking. And I don't really like much in the way of handmade stuff; I prefer the finer, more polished look of machine made.
But I have that thing, because I will be slime if I get rid of it.
She also knitted booties to go on this big cloth doll I have from my childhood; it was a gift from "my little old lady down the block." I threw those out. Yes, in the garbage.