HELP. My mother-in-law is coming to visit on Friday. It just occurred to me that I have not sewn anything – NOT. ONE. THING. – since my initial success with doll pants and a tiny toy bin. I can’t even remember how to thread my bobbin. (Is it just me, or do I sound kind of macho when I talk about my bobbin?)
At a minimum, I’ll dust off that $400 sewing machine she bought me so it doesn’t look quite so neglected. But I know she’ll want to see other signs of progress. I’m thinking I can throw a few fabric scraps on the floor, wear a measuring tape around my neck, and tell her I’m working on something “really big.” I’ll also randomly measure everyone’s inseam because I specialize in awkward and overkill. Should be a great week.
That’s right, WEEK. Not a weekend. Not even a long weekend. No, no. We’re talking about an extended week here, people. The in-laws are flying right by the sacred one-week mark and staying two more days beyond that. Because why the hell not? So I’ve got 9 days of lies ahead of me. NINE DAYS.
I can’t really be held responsible for my actions during that amount of time. I can generally keep it together and make conversation for 4, 5, or even 6 days. But 9? What more is there to say? How many times can we talk about the garden or the weather? At some point we will HAVE to discuss my sewing.
I’m worried that in a moment of desperation, I’ll break down and show her Creepy Baby. “Hey, look what I made! It’s a ski mask that I cut out of a sock and put on a doll and then I take pictures of it and write about it on the internet and I need therapy.”
She’ll probably try to have me committed. Rightfully so. Rightfully sew.