Sew Where Is It?

I have this sewing machine. It's not a great sewing machine. Wait. It's a great sewing machine for what I paid for it. It was $20, new. It's a mini-me version of a real sewing machine, and for as often as I need it and for the depth of my sewing projects, it works great. Very point-and-shoot as sewing machines go.

Project du juor that I am using said machine for = Halloween costumes, and more specifically, the altering thereof.

All went well with altering Wonder Woman's main outfit, and even the belt and the arm bands; I whipped them out in record time. I was pretty proud of ole' Cathy about then, let me just say that. About the time I got half way through shortening the "boots" (made of soft thin cloth), things started to get sticky, and then jam up - little examination was required to discover that the damn bobbin came unthreaded.

No problem. I'll grab the manual and walk myself through it. Bobbins are my least favorite part of sewing; I've never gotten the knack on ANY sewing machine I've owned or used. But surely with the manual in-hand I can get it done, right?

M'kay, so let me grab the manual. It's not in the box. Oh, yeah, right - it's in the...I saw it in that...

Yeah, see what had happened was...

The manual has been floating around the house. I've run across it at least a dozen times in the last year. It's white, with orange lettering on the front, about 6" x 6". I can see it in my head as clear as day. Where I can't see it is in my hand, since I cannot for the LIFE of me FIND the fucking thing.

I just spent TWO HOURS going through my closets, my files, my boxes of papers, my manual binders, my kitchen cabinets, my drawers - you name it, I looked there. Now it's 2 AM for shit's sake, and here I am, on the verge of a panic attack in my office because this stupid manual, that I have glanced at VERY often in that certain missed pile or drawer or box, eludes me. I think I can hear it laughing at me from its hiding place. Little fucker.

This is why, folks - this is why TGPMo2008 HAS TO HAPPEN. If I didn't have Halloween costumes to finish I could work on it now. But I need to work on it now so I can FIND the manual so I can RETHREAD the bobbin, so I can FINISH the costumes. See? Ahh, my life is lived in the Great Fields of Irony. Come out and tromp around with me, the weeds are high and the irony grows wild, and the skies are not cloudy all day.

Oh dear Lord. I just now considered the reality of most likely having to finish sewing those damn boots by hand. Erinn, you're lucky you have school in the morning or I would be calling you RIGHT NOW to come over and thread this damn bobbin, (even though you would undoubtedly laugh at my little-sewing-machine-that-could) because I KNOW you could figure it out, being the sewing genius you are. Whatever, don't argue. Want proof? Fine - anyone here know anyone else who whips out fully lined, satin, beaded bridal capes in three hours the day before her friend's wedding, in which she is standing up as MOH? Yeah, me neither. Oh, and E, you still owe me a guest blog on that vibrating razor idea you had. Makes my butt pucker every time I think about it.

OK, Cathy's a little punchy now...time to try to shut my brain off, after I have a conversation with my subconscious about how I expect it to dig out the info on where the manual is while I sleep before I get all pissy with it. My subconscious, I mean.

Ooooook. Whatever. Seriously bed time now. Whoooo.