A lot of day for one day

Days have drifted slowly, somnambulant, looney, like sleepwalking these couple of months. Since our governor shut down my state, the only touchstone of reality is trash pickup. I do a little or a bit, or nothing. I talk to my neighbor, my sister, my daughter. I go to the mailbox, for the weekly collection of junk mail.

I did hope the crisis would end junk mail. There is a perceptible lessening, but alas, it remains with us.

Today I took the black and cream off the loom, to begin the end process.

First it goes to the serger to secure the cut ends. I put the end under the presser foot and began sewing--without lowering the presser foot. Decent words will not describe the mess I had. With tweezers I commenced removing the threads jammed solidly in the throat plate and around the presser foot.

The I began rethreading the machine, leaving to the end the one needle I swore I never would unthread, the one inside, behind and threaded from back to front. I got to it and could not get it threaded. I called my sister. No answer. I tried for another hour, and then my memory shouted, you need a bridge cleaner!

I called my sister again; she has the same serger and surely would have a pack of bridge cleaners. No answer.

I checked Amazon. I would pay expedited delivery to get them tomorrow! I'm not kidding you, bridge cleaners are not a priority for Amazon, which proclaims to have rearranged shipping priorities to get what is needed the most out the soonest. No bridge cleaners before June.

I called my drug store. Try to make a twenty something understand! Finally I moaned "You certainly aren't even old enough to have a bridge!" I refined my description as I delt with several more drug stores. It's a mono filament line with a loop on one end to guide under a tooth bridge for cleaning.

My doorbell rang. My gentleman neighbor across the way told me someone he did not recognize was driving through the park, hoping to find me. He offered to stay, in case it was an unsavory character and I might need rescuing. But I said I was fine and went to the street, and met someone who introduced herself as an old customer.

She knew I lived in the park because I'd mentioned it, and she knew if she asked enough people she would find me. She wanted to buy towels for gifts for an upcoming wedding. Lovely. I brought her into the studio and she left with four yellow towels for the bride and a kiwi towel for her kitchen.

My sister called and yes, she only yesterday found an old box of bridge cleaners in the drawer of one of the old studio sewing machines. She would bring it over after supper.

At the end of my day that had flipped from nothing to overflowing, Jan knocked on my door and yoo-hooed. "It's me and here are the bridge cleaners."

And I immediately responded, "since you're here, will you rethread that last needle. You know, the one threaded back to front!" And she sat down to do it. Bridge cleaner in hand, she turned it this way and that, trying to see how we used to do it. Then she said,"We have the same machines. Why doesn't this have a slot in it?"

Mechanical whiz that she is, she pressed this and pushed that, trying to make something move to get at the needle. And then she found the tiny switch that opened the top of the threading space in that needle so the thread could just be dropped in. Flip the switch, close the hole, job done.

She played with the cat for a bit, and went home. I secured the ends of the fabric and sent it through the washer and dryer. Towels tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be a little more busy than most days.