The sewing machine from…


I’m writing to you after spending a good 30 minutes soaking my anger away.

It all started with a sewing machine.

Okay, let me back up. Years and years ago, I promised the boys I would make them curtains for their room. “It will be nice,” I said. “You’ll like them,” I said. Then I walked away and promptly forgot.

Not that the boys cared. They’re boys. All they care about is that they get food and TV–not necessarily in that order.

Then my husband got a call from a realtor friend saying that she knew someone who was looking for a house that fit our description. “Do you want to list your house?” she asked.

Um, gee, let me think about it.


So, I suddenly went from, “Hmm, I’ll get to those curtains… someday” to rushing to Joann Fabrics and doing this:

Now the next part of my story is where it gets a little strange. I am somehow the owner of three sewing machines.

Yes, you read that correctly. Not one, not two, but THREE machines.

I’ve inherited two machines from my grandma. The first one is built into a table and pops out like some sort of freaking Jack-in-the-box (only with needles). It’s older than dirt–possibly antique? We’ll say “vintage”. The second one–also “vintage”–comes with a fancy case and knobs that apparently make fancy stitches.

And the third one I actually know how to use.

Unfortunately, item number three is hiding somewhere in the deep, dark recesses of our storage shed.

So, since I’m not ready to try my luck at sewing machine peek-a-boo, I decided to go with machine number two.

Let me say that I at least had the wisdom to do a test sew on some scrap fabric. That is, after I finished googling how to thread the darn thing. The great internet told me I had to put my thread through 10 different holes. And I’m all like, “Are there even 10 different holes on this thing?!” And so I followed the picture and where I thought the thread should go and…

Success! It worked! I was in business. I was so proud of myself that I called the boys to admire my success.

And they were all like, “We have legos.” So, no, they didn’t care much, but that was okay because after decades of waiting (well, maybe not decades) they were going to have freakin’ curtains!

But then it happened.

I don’t think sewing machines are supposed to make sounds similar to a hoard of bats beating their way out of a cave. Buuuut somehow my machine was doing a good job of this. This “lovely” sound was followed by my spool of thread having a seizure and my needle doing this:

Yeah, it was stuck because apparently there was a mound of thread under my fabric resembling Mt. Everest. I don’t even know.

So, I pulled the fabric out, re-threaded the machine, and started again. All was well until it happened again. Repeat the re-threading and try again.

Times this by a zillion.

Apparently, when I’m very frustrated, I do an excellent impersonation of Miss Piggy screaming.

Yes, I did look very much like the above picture minus donuts. There were no donuts. 😦

I begged and pleaded with the sewing machine, “Puhlease? Please please please! C’mon, we can do this! Just one more stitch. C’mon, baby! You did the other curtain. Can’t  you do this one, too?”

I yelled at the sewing machine, “You had one job! ONE. JOB. Sew the friggin’ curtain! COME ON!”

I threatened the sewing machine, “I’m going to throw you where no one will ever find you.”

And I’m proud to say that I now have two new curtains. But the machine still sits there taunting me, waiting for our next encounter.

But not today, sewing machine. Not today.


3 thoughts on “The sewing machine from…

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