I broke not one, but two domestic machines today. My fault, entirely. I asked them for more than they had to give.
And I did this, quite simply, because I am Mortally Afraid of industrial sewing machines. Or, to be even more precise, I am shit scared of hand injuries. The likelihood of me sewing my own hands to the table with an industrial is approaching probability one.
Meaning the prospect thrills me not.
But be that as it may, the time has come.
I must dig the Big Sewing Machine out from it's current position (hiding in the far corner, disguised as a Really Handy Thing to Pile the Stuff You Don't Know What To Do With On Top Of),
Remember how to thread the bobbin winder (could be a problem...)
And face my demons.
Because bear-making is not for the Faint of Heart,
Or domestic machines, it would seem...
scene fades slowly to black as Shula stands alone, looking nervous, though humming bravely...
