I taught myself how to use a sewing machine today.
I thought it was about time, considering I’ve had one sitting on my dresser for a few months. It was an impulse buy from a supermarket. A teeny tiny bright pink “oh it’s so cute” impulse buy.
It’s a terrible sewing machine. The pre-wound thread unravelled several times. It was perhaps a waste of $50, when you view it as more than an week’s wages when I first joined the workforce at the ripe old age of 15. It was perhaps a pretty cool investment, when you view it as less than the cost of a carton of beer that my darling husband buys. Craft beer. Hmm. Actually it’s delicious, but it doesn’t fix my son’s pirate costume.
Mr 3 insisted on wearing his pirate costume yesterday and tore the long sleeves to shreds. “Please fix it mummy. Pleeeeeeaaaaaassssseeee.”
So today I finally broke out the itsy bitsy teeny weeny bright pink dodgy sewing thingy.
I’m rather proud of myself for keeping myself calm while working out how to fix the silly thing before I could even use it.
I cut the frayed part of the sleeves off, turning it into a rather nice short sleeve. I think the jagged hem adds to the effect but I don’t think I’ll be attempting to play with a ball gown any time soon.