Step 1. Try for three not consecutive days to get that
fucking sewing machine to work. Bobbins are the devil.
Step 2. After using almost an entire spool of thread, you
take that shit apart, stick a q tip in there to remove the gum-like substance
and lint that someone left behind and put it back together. Fucker still
doesn’t work. Take it apart even further this time. Turn the bobbin holster
into a notch thing that holds it in place. Put it all back together for the
third time only this time you forget where the little metal piece goes. Throw
it on the floor.
Step 3. Try… and … it works!! woohoo! Time to celebrate. You
consider having a drink. You are cool with drinking alone, but drinking alone
while it’s still kind of morning and you will still be alone long after the
buzz wears off seems like it’s crossing some kind of line. You roast yourself a
marshmallow (Siamese twin… it came that way I swear) on the stove instead.
Awesome.
Step 4. Spend the next 2-3 hours sewing the square you cut
out earlier. Measure meticulously, and by meticulously I mean lay it out on top
of the old one and guesstimate. Sew. Realize late in the game that you forgot
it is 2 pieces stitched together down the middle and wonder if it had strength
giving properties or something. Sew some lines down the middle just in case.
(Thinking the whole time that Mrs. Saige Wisdom would definitely approve)
Internal dialogue ‘shit, they’re not straight. Fuck,
whatever’
Step 5. Gleefully take the completed awning outside and
double check they are the same. It’s 4” too fucking narrow because you wrapped
your 2” side hems one too many times. Mother F. Briefly consider ripping and
redoing. Fuck it, it’ll still work.
Step 6. Look at awning hardware and consider how you will
attach the new awning. Decide to wait for your husband to come home and figure
it out. It requires tools of some sort, plus he’s the engineer. He likes this
stuff.
7. Go back inside for another Siamese marshmallow. You
deserve it.
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