Now that the end of the building contract has come and gone, we're getting a trifle antsy about our shambolic living conditions. Oh, it was fine when it was all running ahead of schedule..wasn't it? Now I am thanking Mother nature for turning on a bit of weather above frickin' freezing because I am heartily sick of sitting in the same fetid room with my (former) loved ones.
My sewing machine crapped itself and resisted all my wiles. I spent the day lovingly oiling and twiddling and stamping my feet in two-year-old tantrum ways every time it snagged up the thread AGAIN. I got D to take a manly look at it. He admitted that the last thing I sewed was a stupid bloody bag of his that I swore was too chunky to fit under the foot. He examined it up and down and upside down. Then he asked me whether the tension was right? TENSION????There was plenty of goddamn tension to go around! Then he sweetly enquired about my threading technique at which point I just about threw the *^&$#&U^@#$$# at him. But, dear reader do you know what I found? Yes....it was all cocked up. Some little treasure may have tried to have a go, or maybe some Mum had dropped the $$#$%#^thread and forgotten about it.
Ooohhh, we all laugh NOW. But in truth I felt a little silly and a lot happy because there was NOTHING wrong with the machine that a good old fashioned LOOK couldn't fix.
And now just in time, it is warm enough to sit in the loungeroom and play with the sewing, even though all the material is still in the room with the farting, smelly socks and jocks and telly in it. And the loved ones.
1 comment:
I always get Mr Fixit to sort out my sewing machine for me too, he says "I don't know anything about sewing machines" and I say "shutup you're Mister Fixit and you can fix anything" and he can and he does.
Funny post. The lines about the tension and the ex-loved ones in the room had me chortling.
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