Yesterday, I looked at the sewing machine again and again as I walked past it. I must have looked at that thing 20 times. Maybe more. PROBABLY more.
It just sat there, probably still slightly disassembled. It did not put itself back together.
I finished hand-sewing the French seam while watching a deplorable show I found on Netflix called Breaking Amish. I made it through half of one episode.*
Now I have to sew along the top to finish off the tube that the cord will go through, and the drawstring bag will be finished. Then I will iron it and stare at it for a while. Then I will move on with life. Hopefully to this project, which I have fabric for already. I have washed said fabric, and I have the thread. I have to cut it out and stitch it together, and I think I can do that tonight. We'll see.
Then I will have a snazzy apron to wear while I am making this for dinner, sometime this weekend. Probably Sunday. Maybe earlier.
That apron will never get done fast enough for me to wear it while making that. Never.
You can't hear it, but I am sighing loudly.
* I could not believe it. Here are young people, curious about the outside world, encouraged by TV producers to go off and experience life, all while all parties involved mean that there is no way any of them can ever go home again. Is the TV show going to fund an education, help them find work outside of their community, give them the counseling they'll need after everyone who has ever loved them suddenly refuses to see or speak to them? No. It is an awful show.