I was feeling virtuous. I was going to sew cloth napkins from some old clothes. I’m not virtuous, we’re just short on money and we like to eat so paper goods don’t make the short list when we head to the grocery store.
My husband carried my sewing machine down to the living room for me because it turns out I’m not the kind of person who will use a craft room even when I have one. And then this beast decided to give me a hard time.
Apparently it’s fussy and doesn’t like being carted around from room to room. I petted and patted it until its mood improved, but by then I was ready to be done.
I’d like to give it a name like Gladys or Lois or some other strong old timey feminine moniker, but maybe I’d better not get too attached. It does remind me of my cranky old Aunt Carrie to whom it once belonged.
Once I had a newer machine – a gift from my husband when we were newly married but the stupid thing only lasted about ten years. They just don’t make ’em like they used to.