The most boring Object I have ever Finished

This morning while I was making lovely forward progress on a new half-inch hexagon piece, I sliced open my right index finger with my lovely extra-sharp Japanese scissors. I guess what's important is I didn't drip any blood on my project, but I can't hold a pen or a needle right now and I'm angry.  I lost a month of embroidery in November after peeling a strip of skin off my left thumb in what I will call The Sweet Potato Incident, but at least I could write/sketch.

But I can still type.  Sort of. 

Shortly after Smokey died last month I finished a thing. A terrible thing, but at least a thing with a story.  The interior pieces were a door prize from my old quilt guild in 2014, a packet of 2.5-inch squares of 19th-century reproduction fabric.  Lovely, but really my style.  In 2016, we bought the rug and I had a realization.

I bought the border fabric at the Patchworkmesse in Erding. It's from the same designer/collection as the squares, which is not a thing I care about but made harmonizing easier.  After starting the border, I got stuck and let it sit around for two and a half years, mocking me.  Parts fell on my head. Stray half-hexagons got stuck to my socks.  I couldn't figure out how to make the edge straight, so finally I ripped all the half-hexagons out and performed the SHOFS (See Hexagons On the Flip Side). Gave it a good hate finish, one might say.

 It's puffy and asymmetric. It will be a pleasure to set flower pots on it.

But hey, I've got this:

It's my third finished UFO of the year, but I can't find the second.